


Proof

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Series: Proof [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DC - Fandom, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bat Brothers, Batboys, Batfamily, Batman - Freeform, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied child abuse (past), Not Canon Compliant, They all need hugs, brief incident with human trafficking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: A Batfamily AU where Jason, Dick, Tim, and Damian meet first on the streets of Gotham, before they ever meet Bruce Wayne. Some details will feel familiar, and some will not. The end result, as it always should be, is family.
Relationships: Batfamily - Relationship, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Proof [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944145
Comments: 346
Kudos: 1439
Collections: Jason Todd Steals the Batmobile Tires





	1. Prologue: It Seems Mindless

**Author's Note:**

> "Faith is an island in the setting sun, but proof, yes, proof is the bottom line for everyone." (Paul Simon)

The mansion was so empty. Bruce’s footsteps echoed as he wandered down the hallway from his bedroom. He stopped at a closed door, rich mahogany, and pushed it open. The room had a forest green theme, with pale green walls and dark green accents, a tan carpet and a four-poster bed with gnarled wood posts. The bedspread was a rich grass green with tiny gold leaves sprinkled over it and the nightstand was red mahogany like the door, with a gold lamp and dark green lampshade sitting on top.

Bruce went in and sat on the bed. He stared at the golden oak wingback chair with leafy green upholstery and considered which ancestor might have chosen this theme for the room. His great-aunt had been an artist who specialized in woodland scenes, and one of her paintings hung on the wall in front of him. He stood and moved to the closet. It was empty. The room was pristine, and Bruce wasn’t sure anyone, even a guest, had used it in his lifetime. He sighed and left, shutting the door behind him.

After he ate a late brunch and read through several Wayne Enterprise reports, held a conference call with Lucius and a couple members of R&D, made a few phone calls, and went for a run on the manor grounds, he headed for the cave. A long workout and review of case materials and message to Gordon later, he went upstairs and ate a wordless dinner with Alfred before he headed for the showers and geared up for the night.

The cowl felt tight. He adjusted it three times before giving up and pulling on his gauntlets and gloves. The sound of rushing water from the waterfall seemed to fill the cave tonight, and he stood at the door to the car – he’d been calling it the Batmobile in his head for the last couple of years but hadn’t let slip in front of Alfred or Lucius – and stared at his reflection in the window.

His comms crackled. “Sir?” Agent A said quietly. “Are you feeling all right tonight?”

Alfred sat at the bank of computers with his own headset on, and Bruce couldn’t see him, but he could feel worry coming off him in waves.

Bruce couldn’t stop the “Do you think I make a difference, Al? Really?”

There was a pause, and then Alfred said, “You’ve been doing this for five years, Master Bruce. You’ve had quite an impact on the nightlife of Gotham.”

Bruce blinked. Alfred was right. The statistics bore out the fact that Bruce was making a difference. Crime was down, especially petty crime and gang violence. The big rogues were still a problem, but Bruce figured those would always be around.

“People aren’t as afraid as they used to be, sir. I know that, and that is good,” Alfred said, the warmth in his voice filling Bruce’s chest. Alfred hadn’t always approved of the Batman, especially in the beginning, but Bruce could feel his pride now and it buoyed him up tonight.

“It is good, Al. You’re right.” Bruce took a deep breath and then climbed into the Batmobile. “I’ll check in in an hour. Comm me if a situation erupts.”

“The very second it does, sir,” Alfred answered.

Bruce drove into the city and monitored the scanner before deciding on The Narrows. He hadn’t been in a few days and it sounded like some of the seedy residents were coming out of the cracks again. He found an alley to park in and headed for the rooftops.

Four muggings, three fights, and an attempted assault left him a bit worn out. It was a cold November night and peoples’ tempers seemed to be hot to make up for it. He grappled back toward the car to check the scanners again and to warm up a little. When he stood on the roof and saw a small figure in a red hoodie yanking a tire off the Batmobile, he had to blink to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

Nope, there was a kid, stealing his tires. One was already propped up against a nearby dumpster.

Bruce climbed down to the ground silently and crept up from behind to watch the kid – good lord, he couldn’t have been more than nine – deftly use a lug wrench, although he had to jump and put his whole weight on it to undo another tire. The kid had messy black hair and a determined frown on his face.

“Are you seriously stealing my tires, kid?” he asked, because this was a situation he’d never run across before, and after five years of this, something new was astonishing.

The boy jumped and yelled, “Shit!” before he swung the wrench as hard as he could against Bruce’s shin. When Bruce didn’t move, the kid looked up and held the wrench defensively. “Hey, asshole, you better leave me alone if you know what’s good for you,” he snarled.

Bruce tried not to smile, but apparently the grimace that resulted was intimidating anyway. The boy scrambled backwards and would’ve bolted except he’d allowed himself to be cornered against the dumpster. Bruce put his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you working for someone?” he asked, and the boy’s face twisted into something that looked a lot older than nine.

“I don’t work for no one.”

“Anyone,” Bruce said automatically. He’d been living with Alfred for way too long.

The boy cocked his head and his green eyes twinkled. “Did you just correct my grammar?”

Bruce shrugged. “Habit.”

At that, another voice called down from above him. “Are you an English teacher by day?”

Suddenly a boy jumped down, landing on Bruce’s shoulders just as two other smaller boys, so small, scurried out from the shadows and kicked Bruce in the kneecaps. If Bruce couldn’t handle four small boys, he wouldn’t be much of a vigilante, but he didn’t want to hurt them. He ducked and threw the bigger kid off his shoulders and then pushed the smaller ones so that he had all four boys against the alley wall.

“Fuck you, Batman!” The first boy, the one who’d been stealing his tires, growled at Bruce.

Bruce backed up. “Stop,” he said firmly. Interestingly, the two smaller boys stopped struggling right away and the older, tallest boy stepped in front of them but didn’t attack Bruce. The tire thief continued to cuss him out but followed the bigger boy’s lead and stepped back. Bruce glared at him and he stopped cussing.

“I want to help,” Bruce said. “Who are you boys?”


	2. Empty as a Pocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets Dick

“Somebody’s tearing into Charlie!”

Jason snapped his head up from the newspaper he was reading. A boy, maybe seven years old, with small, wide brown eyes peeking out from a tangle of dark, curly hair was waving his arms wildly.

“You gotta help him, Jason!” the little boy cried.

Jason was already moving. He cleared the corner of the tenement building before the little boy could even think to follow him, and he skidded to a halt when he reached the end of the alley. He blinked at the scene in front of him, and, well, this was new.

There was a tall, thin boy with hair as dark as pitch and eyes as blue as the pictures Jason had seen in magazines of the tropical oceans. He was standing in front of Charlie, a small and weak boy around Jason’s age, and he was smiling a cheery smile at the teenaged gang member who had been hitting Charlie. A smile? Here in the alley? Jason had to blink again to make sure he was seeing things right. He stepped closer.

“You prolly wanna mind your own business, asshole,” the gang member snarled at the new boy.

“You prolly wanna leave him alone,” the boy said with a lilt, and he bent his knees a bit and Jason found himself inching closer to Charlie, anticipating.

Jason saw the boy tense and moved closer. A fight was coming, and Jason would snatch Charlie out of the way as soon as it started. He wasn’t big, but he’d made it a habit to try and keep little kids like him from getting beat on too much. This fight would be messy; Jason just knew it. The new kid looked older than Jason, but not by much. The alley was oddly quiet, and the stench from the dumpster nearby was thick and heavy in the air.

“Who the fuck are you?” the gang member said, and he raised his fists, ready to fight.

The boy brushed hair from his face, said, “I’m Robin,” and did a dramatic bow so out of place Jason couldn’t help his bark of laughter.

The gang member cut his eyes to Jason for a second, and Robin did something Jason had never seen before in all his years on the streets. He crouched and then sprang into the air, flipping right over _top_ of the gang member before landing behind him and spinning him around just enough to get a hard hit on the gang member’s nose before shoving him to the ground.

Jason took the opening and grabbed Charlie’s arm, dragging him down the alley and away from the fight. He pushed Charlie around the corner and said, “Run!”

The little boy took off and Jason turned back to the fight, ready to add his fists on Robin’s side, because any kid who could do that jump and punch thing was worth helping and because the gang member was on the ground and hollering for his friends. His friends would outnumber Robin. Jason kicked the gang kid as he started to his feet again, and he kicked hard. The kid crashed down with a yell.

Robin whistled at Jason and reached for a nearby fire escape. He leaped gracefully to the rungs and began pulling himself up hand-over-hand.

Jason followed, and when he got high enough, he glanced down. The whole gang was rounding the alley corner and zeroing in on Robin and Jason. He climbed faster. When he got to the roof, he was out of breath, and three bulky and angry teenagers were climbing the rungs quickly. The rattling sound of the fire escape combined with cussing, snarling boys, so he ran. “Come on,” he called to Robin. He didn’t get far, though. He skidded to the edge of the roof and looked down. He gulped, and turned to Robin, but the boy was still running, and when he got to the edge, he leapt. He had a determined frown on his face, and he threw his whole body off the roof ledge, and Jason’s jaw dropped when he easily reached the next roof and landed with both feet, like a gymnast.

He turned to Jason. “You can do it! Get a good running start and I’ll catch you if you start to fall!”

Jason backed up a few steps and turned to check on the gang members clambering up the fire escape. They were still coming, and they were still angry. Jason turned back to Robin and swallowed.

“I promise I’ll catch you!” the boy called.

It would have to be good enough. If Jason fell to his death in Crime Alley, well, it would be a death he knew was coming anyway. People died young in this part of town. He might as well go out of this shithole with a flourish. He sucked in a deep breath and ran. His foot hit the ledge solidly and he threw himself out across the gap. He was so surprised when his feet landed safely on the ledge of the next building that he stumbled and would have fallen backward off the edge if Robin hadn’t kept his promise and reached a steady hand to grab Jason by the waist and pull him down onto the gravel roof.

Jason found his feet as Robin whooped. “You did it! Great jump!” he hollered. His eyes were dancing in the orange glow of the streetlights and his smile was wide.

“Holy shit. Holy shit I made it!”

Robin laughed. The gang of boys standing on the opposite roof were staring, slack-jawed, at Jason and Robin. Robin grinned. “The next gap is smaller than this one. Wanna do it again?”

Three rooftops later and Jason stopped and sank to the gravel-lined roof and sprawled out like a starfish. “Robin, you’re nuts!” he said, gasping for breath. His body buzzed with adrenaline and he sucked grimy, soot-filled air into his lungs and grinned. He looked over and an odd look crossed Robin’s face.

He sank down next to Jason and slumped a little. “My name’s not really Robin,” he said. “That’s a nickname my mom gave me. My name’s Dick Grayson. What’s yours?”

“Jason.”

The boys lay quietly for a few minutes while they caught their breath.

Jason sat up. “It’s gonna get cold tonight. You should go home.” He said it because Dick looked like a kid who had a home. He was friendly and his clothes were clean, and his eyes were brighter and cleaner than any street kid’s. Jason’s red hoodie was brown on the edges of the sleeves and his blue jeans had holes in the knees and his shoes were now an indeterminant color (they used to be red). He knew he had dark circles under his eyes because every time he slipped into a McDonald’s bathroom to wash up, he saw them. He saw the way adults looked at him, and the pity their eyes always held.

Dick looked away. “I don’t have a home. Not anymore.” He stood up and brushed off his pants. “You go on and go home. Little kids like you shouldn’t be out this late anyway.”

Jason couldn’t help his snort. “The last time someone tried to make me go in at a certain time I was probably five.” He could hear his mother’s clear voice, the one Jason held onto in his memories, not the slurred speech she got from the drugs later, yelling from across the schoolyard iron playground for him to come on so they could go home before it got dark. “The last time I had a home I was seven.”

Dick blinked those big blue eyes at Jason. “How old are you now?”

Jason sat up straighter, lifted his chin. “I’m nine. How old are you?”

“Twelve,” Dick said, and there was a tinge of sadness in his voice.

“Why ain’t you got a home anymore? You used to?” Jason said.

Dick nodded. “Of course,” he said, like it was a given.

Jason clamped down on the flare of jealousy about that.

“I lived with my parents, but we traveled around. We were in the circus!” Dick’s eyes seemed to glitter, and he smiled broadly. “We were The Flying Graysons.”

Jason snapped his mouth shut. The circus? That was a new story. “Why the hell did you leave if you liked it like that?”

Dick’s face fell. “My parents died. Just . . . just a few days ago.” Tears filled his eyes, but he wiped them away with his sleeve. “I ran away.” 

Silence blanketed the rooftop for a moment, and Jason wanted to know more, but Dick clammed up and kicked at the gravel with his shoe.

“Where are you going tonight?” Dick asked.

Jason shrugged. “There’s a warehouse I try sometimes, but the last few nights there’ve been some assholes working on drug deals there, so I’ll prolly go down near Sheldon Park tonight. Cops stay away from there most of the time and there are a few shops so run down that they don’t care if we crash in their doorways.”

Dick swallowed and fiddled with some loose gravel on the roof. “Can I come with you?”

“You got any money?” Jason asked. Not that he’d make that a condition, but Jason was about out, and he hadn’t eaten yet today.

“A little. Not much.”

Jason walked around the edge of the roof until he found the fire escape for it. “Enough for a chili dog on the way?”

Dick jogged over to catch up. “Sure. I’ll buy you a chili dog.”

Dick grinned at him, and Jason had to admit that having someone to talk to for the night sounded like a good idea. Grayson would probably ditch Jason tomorrow; sticking with someone was tough on the streets. Jason had learned that the hard way over the last three years. But for tonight it would be nice to have the company.

Jason climbed over the edge of the building and looked up at Dick. “All right, circus boy, let’s go get a chili dog and a place to crash for the night. I’ll show you how.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this! Chapter titles are always Paul Simon lyrics. 
> 
> If you want to chat with me, I'm on Tumblr at Westgateoh (screen names are never my forte).


	3. Evening Falls So Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick came to Gotham to find Tony Zucco. Jason knows people. Also, he'd better warn Dick about the Batman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind reception, everyone. I hope you're all safe and finding a bit of light today.

Every time Dick closed his eyes, he saw his father reaching for his mother, clasping their hands together, and then there was the ear-splitting crack sound of the rope snapping, his parents falling fast, and hitting the dirt floor of the circus tent with a dull thud. He tried not to close his eyes much, so he kept them on Jason, this small boy who sounded older than Dick sometimes, as he led Dick to a place to sleep.

Jason navigated the streets with the ease of someone who had traversed them daily, and he talked in spurts, telling Dick about places to stay away from and restaurants who might give a kid a free meal if they don’t come in too often. He pointed out a shelter, once. “Go if you want, but they have to report you to the system, and,” he paused and looked down, “I think the system sucks. I guess it works for some kids, but it didn’t for me.”

He wouldn’t say anything else about it, instead pointing to a street and saying, “Don’t go down there. There’s a gang, and they fight better than the kid you fought tonight.” He rubbed his arm absently and then pointed something else out. “There’s a pretty good row of shops with good steps to sleep on if you have to. They don’t call the cops.”

Dick was stunned by the knowledge Jason possessed. As they crossed the street and Jason approached a hot dog vendor, Dick couldn’t help hearing his mom’s voice in his head, “You know I’ll always be here for you, little Robin,” and he blinked away tears again. He stepped up to pay the vendor and thanked the man politely after they got their food.

Jason led them into the park and talked with his mouth full. “Okay, there’s a good spot here, but we can’t go there yet. Cops watch it and the last patrol isn’t until around eleven, when the park theoretically closes.”

They found a bench and ate quietly while Dick stole glances at Jason out of the corner of his eye. He was a small nine-year-old, if all the kids Dick had been introduced to by parents over the years of performing were anything to go by. His hair was as black as Dick’s was, but it had a curl to it and was unruly. Jason raked his hands through it a lot, like he was trying to brush it down into some order, but it didn’t obey him, and his eyes were a sparkling emerald green. He carried a grey backpack that he held tightly to his chest while he ate, and when they did find his sleeping spot in a doorway of a shop near the edge of the park, he pulled a fleece blanket out. “It won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing,” he said as he tugged the blanket over them.

Dick used his own bag as a pillow. He didn’t want to sleep here, and he didn’t want to close his eyes and see his parents fall again, but he was bone-tired, and his eyes slammed shut moments after Jason mumbled a good night.

He woke to sunlight and Jason eyeing him carefully, like he was under a spotlight. He blinked and sat up.

“You talk in your sleep,” Jason said, drawing his knees to his chest. “It’s okay, though.”

Dick didn’t answer. He yawned and stood up, twisting and then reaching down for his toes.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Stretching,” Dick replied. He pulled his foot to his quad and leaned over.

“Why?”

Dick ignored the question, set his foot down, and crossed his arms. “Do you know anything about criminals around here?” It was a long shot, but Jason had been living on the streets of Gotham for two years and the streets of Gotham were famous for crime. “I don’t mean gangs. I mean the adult stuff. Crime families and stuff.”

Jason frowned and stood up. “I don’t get mixed up with that shit. Some kids do – some of those assholes pay kids pretty good for some messed up shit – but not me. I don’t wanna owe anyone. Plus there’s the Bat.”

Dick blinked. “Like a small flying rodent type thing?”

Jason laughed brightly. “No! The Batman! You haven’t heard of him?”

Dick shook his head.

Jason leaned forward. “Look, he wears this suit that looks kinda like a bat and he kicks criminals’ asses. He stops small stuff sometimes – my friend Billy said he saw the Batman jump some guy who was holding up a hooker for her money – but he fights Scarecrow and Joker and some of the big families like Falcone. If you get mixed up with bad shit, then he might get you. And if he gets hold of kids. . . .” Jason stops and looks at the ground. “He throws ‘em into the system and I’m not getting thrown back into the system. Ever.” He spit the last word.

Dick nodded. He’d met some kids traveling with the circus who were trying to stay out of foster care. It sounded like a crapshoot to Dick. He didn’t want in, either. “Yeah, but my parents were killed on purpose to get at Haley by some Gotham criminal called Zucco. I need to find him.”

Jason cocked his head to the side. “Yeah? Well, I ain’t heard of him, and what are you gonna do anyway? Once you find him?”

Dick glared. “Beat him up and turn him over to the police. He killed my parents.” Saying the words set nerves on fire in Dick’s body and suddenly he was thrumming with anger. “I thought you could help me, but I don’t care. I’m going to find him and make him pay for what he did.” He started to storm off. He didn’t need help.

“Hey, assshole,” Jason yelled as he scrambled to catch up to Dick. “I’ll help you.” “I just think you need more of a plan. You don’t wanna get caught by the Bat and you don’t wanna get killed by gangsters. Right?”

Dick nodded.

“Right. So. We gotta figure out how to find him, how to catch him, and how to get the cops onto him. Easy-peasy.” Jason grinned and something in Dick’s stomach settled a bit. Having this fiery little kid on his side might be good.

Later that afternoon, after they begged a couple dollars and had a late lunch at a greasy diner, Jason took him to a different alley than the one they met in.

“I know some girls who might know something about this Zucco guy,” he said over his shoulder as he led them over to a corner where three women older than Dick by seven or eight years were standing. He watched in awe as Jason, still clad in stained dark blue jeans and a ratty red hooded sweatshirt, marched up to them easily and crossed his arms. “Hey,” he said, and one of the women ruffled his hair with a grin.

“Hey little dude,” she said. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.” She had bleached blonde hair and a blue dress, and she sounded like she’d grown up in Jersey for sure. The group of women huddled on the corner reminded Dick of some of the dancers at the circus, all painted and sparkly, but a little sad.

“Hi Sherry,” Jason said. “We got a question.”

A dark-haired woman a few feet away laughed and said something in a language Dick didn’t understand, and he snapped his gaze back to Jason when he responded in the same language with a wave of his hand and a blush. He turned back to Sherry.

“Guy named Zucco. You know where he works?” Jason asked.

Sherry frowned. “Whatcha goin’ lookin’ for him for? He’s rotten.”

Jason crossed his arms. “Well, I ain’t goin’ lookin’ for a dad or nothing. I just wanna know where we can find him.” He jerked his head toward Dick. “He’s got somethin’ he wants to ask the guy is all.”

Sherry glared at Dick for a moment and he raised his chin a little. Finally, she shrugged. “Down on Hertz Street near the TriGate Bridge.”

Dick spoke up. “You know what he looks like?”

“Wait, you ain’t seen him before? How’d you know it was him?” Jason asked.

Dick kicked at the ground. “I heard him. I heard Haley call him ‘Zucco,’ and I know he’s from here and I know he killed my parents. Tell me what he looks like so I can get him,” Dick said, and he glared at Sherry.

She nodded. “Okay, kid. Okay. He’s gonna be the biggest big shot in the club down on Hertz. Bodyguards, fancy suit. He’s got black hair but it’s graying. Last time I saw him he always wore this jewel pin on his tie, fancy. He’s rough, though. His boys won’t let you punks near him, and you can’t get into that club.”

“Fine,” Dick said, and he’d had enough. He was going to get that guy for what he did, guns or not. “You know how to get there, Jason?”

“Course, let’s go. Thanks, Sherry!” Jason called with a wave and he turned and ran off.

Dick followed him down the street and after about ten minutes Jason slowed down a bit and looked over at Dick. “She’s right about us taking on some big shot. They got guns. A lot of guns, and they don’t like kids.”

Guns. Dick has never dealt with guns. Some guys at the circus carried knives, and old Joe had an honest-to-god switchblade and said he’d used it plenty, but guns weren’t a thing there. Haley probably had one, for all the good it did him. Guns were bad news. “Then you should just show me where this place is and scram, Jason.”

Jason turned and glared at him. “I’m not sayin’ I won’t help you. We just gotta be smart. Those gangsters ain’t smart, but we can be.”

Dick shook his head. “No,” he said. “You stay out of it. You’ve helped me enough.” Dick did not want to get this kid killed. He liked him.

Jason was quiet as they trudged the last few blocks. When Dick saw the street sign for Hertz, Jason kept walking. He was just going to ignore Dick.

Dick sighed. “Okay, so I need to find that Zucco guy and get him to admit what he did. Preferably with a cop around.”

Jason paled. “Cops?” he said, and then seemed to shake himself out of it. “Cops. Right. Course. Well, if we tangle him up in something, we can call a cop over, but how do we get him to confess?”

Dick slowed as they came within sight of a nightclub. It looked fancy, even though the street they were standing in was littered with garbage and stank of sludge-filled river water from the nearby docks. Dick needed to think. He needed to watch the place for a bit and think. Guns and cops and grownups who didn’t think twice before killing innocent people to get at someone else, all right here where Dick was standing. Right inside could be the exact man who thought nothing of killing Dick’s parents, taking them from him forever.

“Hey, Dick,” Jason said, and he tugged on Dick’s shirt. “Remember the rooftops?” he asked and pointed up. “Let’s go get a better view and make a plan.”

Dick led the way, finding a fire escape on a building across the street from the club. Perfect. Climbing felt like he was shaking some of the scared out of him like a shaker of salt. He’d have to remember that. He and Jason hunkered down in a corner where they could see the club entrance, and they sat quietly and watched for a while. The gangsters going in weren’t shy about their guns, and they wore them like decorations for all to see.

When a sleek, gray limo pulled up with a utility car in front and behind, and eight heavily armed guys poured out of the two cars before the door to the limo opened, it got hard for Dick to swallow properly. A man in a dark suit opened the door of the limo and a tall older man with salt and pepper hair emerged in the fanciest suit Dick had ever seen, complete with a ruby pin on his tie. The armed guys flanked him on all sides and seemed to watch every angle of the street there was. This was Zucco.

Dick stopped breathing. He blinked and the smell of animals and popcorn and wide-open fields flooded his lungs for a moment before the trash and wet wood of the docks resurfaced and he saw the ledge in front of him again. He sat back and sucked in a ragged breath as Jason hovered next to him.

“Dick? Hey, Dick, are you okay?”

Dick nodded. “That’s gotta be him,” he whispered.

Jason peeked over the ledge. “The one with eight guards and three cars?”

Dick pulled his knees to his chest and set his head down on his arms. “Yeah.” The man who killed his parents was right there and Dick knew in that moment that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Eight armed men against two scrawny kids. Tears sprang to his eyes and he buried his face even more. “Forget it,” he muttered. “Forget it. He’s too protected.”

After a few breaths and the sound of gravel crunching under Jason’s shoes, Dick felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Jason said. “I have an idea. Wait here. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Before Dick could get to his feet, Jason was gone, sliding down the fire escape like it was a park slide. When he reached the bottom, Dick saw him slip down a side street they’d walked past, and then he was gone. Dick watched Zucco’s cars for a while before he heard footsteps on the fire escape again.

Jason clambered over the ledge and crouched down in front of Dick. He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Dick. “Here, I had one already, but you need one, too. Might as well get it now, for this.” There was a red pocketknife in his hand, and he shoved it into Dick’s hand and held up his other hand and showed Dick his own knife.

Dick gaped. “How did you…” he started.

“Stole it,” Jason said with a shrug. “Here,” he added, reaching into his pocket again. “I got us some M&Ms to share.” He pulled out the trademark brown bag and tore it open. “I try to buy at least one thing when I have to take somethin’ else.” He poured a small pile of candy onto his palm and threw it into his mouth.

Dick stared at his knife and then reached his hand out so Jason could give him some M&Ms. “What are we going to do?”

“Slash his goddamned tires!” Jason grinned. “We can slash them, and maybe it’s not the same as catching him, but it might feel good to fuck something of his up.”

Dick blinked. “You cuss a lot,” was all he could think to say. It would feel good to fuck something of Zucco’s up.

Jason laughed brightly. “Yeah, well your accent’s funny. Who cares?”

“I don’t know,” Dick admitted. “Uh, how do we do this?”

Jason stood a little straighter. He was an odd little kid. “Okay, we gotta be quick. You do the front and I’ll do the back, and when you do it, you gotta, um, you gotta do it like this, hard and fast.” He showed Dick a stab and pull motion. “The hard punch is important. Do it in the middle of the tire, too.”

“You’ve done this before? You’re nine.”

“Yeah, and I’ve done it before,” Jason stated. He didn’t elaborate.

Dick wondered again what sent this kid onto the streets so young. He thought of his own parents, who hugged him all the time and told him he’d always have a place with them no matter where they ended up. They wouldn’t be happy knowing Dick was about to slash a gangster’s tires, that’s for sure. Jason had been out here so long he’d done something this stupid already. Dick had to fight off a wave of sadness at that.

He followed Jason down to the street and caught his sleeve to turn him around. “If we get separated where should we meet up?” he whispered.

Jason cocked his head like he was surprised at the question, and then said, “The first rooftop we climbed. Can you get back there?”

Dick nodded. Jason held up a hand and counted down with his fingers. When he got to zero, both boys took off running at a crouch across the street. Dick’s heart was rabbiting in his chest as he crouched down next to the tire. He took a deep breath and did what Jason said. Hard and fast. In the middle. The pop sound startled him, but he pulled hard and the air started hissing out like an explosion might be coming. He turned and Jason was using both hands to pull his blade down, and then he was up and running.

Dick followed him as a shout from Zucco’s men filled his ears. He heard footsteps behind him, and he ducked as a man reached for him. He tucked himself down and rolled to the side and the man went flying past him, which was great. He was heading for Jason now. Not so great.

Dick climbed back to his feet and ran to catch up as the man, at least six foot five and the size of a strong man from the circus, caught Jason by the wrist and yanked. Jason yelled in pain as he was thrown to the ground, but Dick scrambled over to him and pulled him to his feet. The man reached for Dick, but Dick swiped his knife up and caught the guy’s hand. Blood gushed from the wound and the man startled backwards.

“Come on!” Dick hollered, and tugged Jason behind him. They ran across the street, dodging cars and ignoring honks and yells, and Dick didn’t look back except to make sure Jason was next to him. They ran and ran and finally slowed down when they realized they weren’t being chased anymore. Dick pulled them into an alley and leaned against a wall, gasping for air.

Jason sank down the wall to the ground, cradling his wrist. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Hey,” Dick said, kneeling down. He reached over to pull gently on Jason’s hand. “Let me see.”

Jason held his hand out and Dick turned it slowly. Jason swore again and tears leaked from his eyes. His wrist was swelling and turning an angry deep red already, and Dick frowned. “It might be broken, Jason. What do you do when you’re hurt?” He thought of Doc Stanton, doctor-veterinarian who traveled with Haley’s, and the time Dick broke his arm when he’d been messing around with some friends who weren’t as trained as he was. It was agonizing, but the old gray-haired man was kind and Dick’s mom held Dick tight as his arm was set.

Jason leaned his head back against the wall and clenched his eyes shut. “There’s a free clinic in the Narrows. I don’t wanna go, though. It’ll get better on its own. It’s not,” his breath hitched suddenly, “It’s not broke.” He stood up, but he wavered on his feet.

Dick steadied him. “I think it is. Come on. Show me where this clinic is. I’ll look after you.” As the words left his mouth, he blinked because yeah, he’d look after this little kid for sure. He’d met a lot of little kids in his life already – the image of a tiny, dark-haired boy posing with Dick just a few nights ago flashed through his mind – but this one, Jason, was different. Dick liked him already, and if he was going to survive on the streets of Gotham, Dick would need a friend.


	4. I'm On Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does it take to survive? Food, clothes, and libraries, according to Jason Todd. Also, Dick has a birthday.

Dick took Jason to the clinic and the doctor, “Call me Dr. Leslie,” was kind and gentle, but the second Jason had a cast and a bottle of kid’s aspirin, they snuck out the back of the clinic and into the alley. When they ran a couple blocks and finally slowed down, Dick said, “Hey, what about getting the cast off?”

Jason shrugged and said, “Well, how hard can it be to do ourselves?”

They’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

Jason didn’t let a cast on his wrist slow him down at all.

The next few weeks flew by in a blur. Jason showed him how to find a good place to sleep and they rotated between a park, three doorways of varying depths, and a few warehouses that were usually abandoned enough for two boys to cram themselves against a wall in the corner for a night or two at a time. Dick learned to sleep cold, but he was a little worried about winter creeping closer.

“Hey, Jason,” Dick said one day as they sat in bright green poufy chairs in the Gotham Public Library, “What do you do when it’s freezing out at night?”

Jason didn’t even look up from his book. “Wait,” he muttered, and kept reading.

Dick sighed.

The third day they’d been hanging out together, Jason had looked at Dick and said, “You know the key to survival?” Dick shook his head and Jason said, “Libraries.”

“Libraries?” Dick asked. “You mean the key to humanity’s survival or to my specific survival?”

“Well, both I guess, but yours right now. They’re warm in the winter and air conditioned in the summer. They have games and computers and sometimes they have activities that aren’t bad, and best of all, you can read for as long as you want. I even know a few corners to hide in so that the staff doesn’t catch on that I’m there for hours. It’s my favorite place.”

Dick figured that was true because Jason never let more than three days go by without leading them into the library for most of the day. He could read faster than Dick, and even though Dick was older by a few years, Jason was reading books off the young adult shelves, clearly ahead of Dick in the skill. Dick didn’t really like reading anything that wasn’t fantasy – stories of dragons were his favorite – but Jason devoured books like they were M&Ms, his favorite candy.

At the moment, Dick was bored. Jason had been reading for two hours, and Dick had read several comic books and had played a few games on the computer. It was almost November, and Dick was rethinking his desire to stay on the streets. This morning, when he’d woken in the warehouse they’d crashed in, all he could think of were the space heaters and piles of blankets in his parent’s trailer for the circus. “Jason,” he repeated. “What do you do when it’s freezing out at night?”

Jason frowned and put his finger in his book to keep his place. He looked up at Dick. “I can’t carry blankets and shit around all year, but I started stealing some about a month back and I have a stash. If you’re too cold, we can start using them. I try to wait, though, just so they’ll last. Sometimes they get stolen and I have to steal a new one. I know some spots to stay close to my stash, though. If we’re careful.” He sighed heavily. “Winter sucks. We need to start gathering some newspaper and plastic grocery bags, too. I have a few in my bag for the first snow, but we need to get them regularly.”

Dick drew back as Jason put his head back down. “Jay?” he said, and Jason looked up with a melodramatic sigh. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

Jason just put his nose back in his book and waved Dick off. It must be a good one, Dick figured.

He stood up and wandered out of the library. He sat down on the steps and looked up at the gray sky. The pull of returning to the circus was strong today for Dick. It seemed like exhaustion was sitting in his bones, and he’d been trailing after Jason for three weeks now. His parents died three weeks and four days ago. He looked at his watch. Three weeks, four days and twenty hours ago, to be exact. It was October, and tears sprang to Dick’s eyes as he realized his thirteenth birthday was less than a month away. He swallowed a lump in his throat and put his head down onto his arms. Thirteen. He was going to have a birthday without his parents. It was so unfair.

His last birthday his father had given Dick his watch, and his mother had given him the sweater he was wearing. She’d knitted it herself and it was the bright blue of a robin’s egg. Her always twinkling blue eyes danced in his memory and he clenched his eyes shut as tears leaked out. He didn’t want to live on the streets. He didn’t want to steal blankets to make it through the night. He could go back to the circus. They’d probably find a spot for him on another team, and he’d have a warm place to sleep and food when he needed it. His stomach growled now as if to taunt him.

But Jason was inside, and Jason was kind and little and Dick already felt protective of him, although he was really the one learning from Jason right now. Could he take Jason with him to the circus? Maybe. They didn’t let just anyone join up, though. You needed a skill, and Jason’s primary skills seemed to be survival and reading. Not really circus material.

Also, being in the circus without his mother and father made his heart wrench and tear just thinking about it. No, he’d stay here and try to help the feisty kid who had helped Dick without even blinking for the last three weeks. He sat up and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath and stood, and before he could even get back inside, Jason barreled out of the doors, practically running Dick over.

When he saw Dick, something like relief flashed across his face, like he’d expected Dick to be gone. He recovered, though, and the tough street kid face dropped back on.

“Food, Dickie. Let’s go find some.”

Dick smiled and his tears disappeared at Jason’s words. Jason hadn’t called Dick ‘Robin’ since that first night on the roof, but he’d been trying new variations of Dick practically every day. “How was your book?” Dick asked.

“The ending was stupid. Food, though.”

Dick grinned. “Okay, well, we need some money.”

They didn’t get food that night. Jason didn’t trust the nearby shelter at all (“My friend Jamie got thrown in the system before he could get two feet inside”) and asking for handouts didn’t work that night. They went to bed hungry and woke up hungry. Also, freezing.

“Okay,” Jason said, clapping his hands together for warmth. “Warehouse tonight. We’ll go get my stash of blankets, too.”

Dick led the way to a restaurant that let him wash up some dishes for a couple plates of eggs last week. They said they couldn’t do it all the time, but he was tall for his age and they thought he was fifteen. Jason disappeared while he worked, and he wasn’t even around when Dick brought out two Styrofoam containers of eggs and toast. Dick headed for the bench in the park that he’d told Jason to always go to if they got split up. He sat down and ate, and Jason showed up just as he was finishing.

“Eggs? Sweet!”

Dick frowned. “Where were you? You look like you got hit.”

Jason rubbed at his cheek where a purple bruise was blooming. “Yeah, some big kids were beating up on Joey, you know that kid from the porch steps day before yesterday?”

Dick did. Joey had cussed Jason out for saying ‘hi’. He sighed and handed Jason his container. “Here. Eat. Stop getting in fights. We have to go back to Dr. Leslie next week and if I have to take you a bunch of times, she’ll get suspicious.” It was pointless, though. Aside from reading, it was like all Jason did was prowl the streets looking for fights.

“We don’t have to go back. I bet we can cut this stupid thing off.”

“It’s a free clinic, Jason. Let her do it to make sure. As long as we duck out quick and don’t go too often it should be okay.”

It was okay. Dr. Leslie cut off Jason’s cast, gave him a root beer lollipop and ruffled his hair. She gave Dick a lollipop, too, but refrained from ruffling his hair. He was taller than her. He liked her. She seemed to buy his story that their parents sent him to take care of Jason because they were working, so they didn’t worry about ducking out. Instead, Dick listened closely as she explained possible complications from Jason’s broken wrist, telling him to watch out for continuing stiffness, and giving them a list of exercises Jason could do to strengthen the muscles that had been useless during the break. She also handed Dick a bottle of vitamins before he left.

Dick’s birthday passed unmarked. One day there was a newspaper at a convenience store where he was buying two bananas and a package of M&Ms and he saw the date. He rushed out of the store and past Jason and up to a roof. He threw himself down into a corner and drew his knees close. Tears streamed down his face. He pressed his head to his knees and his jeans got wet as his shoulders shook.

“Dick?” Jason asked a few minutes later. “What happened?”

Dick mumbled into his pants, “My birthday was three days ago. I’m thirteen now.” Jason didn’t say anything, so Dick added, “In the circus, when you turn thirteen, they throw a big party and you get to do a solo in the show if you’re a performer. They even tell the crowd about it. My mom was going to make a strawberry cake and my dad said there was a new trick he was going to teach me.”

“Yeah? What kinds of tricks did you do?”

Dick hadn’t really told Jason about The Flying Graysons’ act, so he started talking. His tears dried up as Jason grinned at the story about Dick’s dad teaching him to do a pass on the trapeze for the first time and frowned at the idea that Dick still had to go to school, after a fashion, when he lived in the circus. “You don’t like school?” Dick asked.

Jason frowned. “I loved school,” he answered. “Hey, uh, happy birthday, Dickiebird. That’s cool you’re thirteen.” He gave Dick a small smile, and somehow, for Dick, that made things better.

“I have an idea,” Jason added, and he stood up and clapped his hands. “I have something to show you!” His grin was wide, now, and his green eyes sparkled. “Follow me!”

Dick blinked and Jason was jumping from one rooftop to the next – they’d been practicing falls and leaps over the last few weeks since Jason got his cast off – and Dick followed with a whoop. After a few rooftops, Jason stopped and moved to a fire escape and they both scrambled down. They ran from the alley onto the sidewalks and Dick, who had now been living in Gotham for three months, recognized Robinson Park.

Jason slowed down and turned to Dick. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to show you this before, but to be fair you never really told me what you did in the circus until today.”

He was right. Dick never talked about his past except to say he’d been in the circus and his parents had been killed. Jason never asked, and Dick figured it was some sort of code on the street. Jason never said much either except in passing, like how he liked school. Dick followed him and Jason led him into the park, around a few bends, and into a section he didn’t know was there. When they pushed through a stand of trees, Dick sucked in a sharp breath.

The playground wasn’t exactly big – there was a better one on the other end of the park that he and Jason had played at before – but it had a tall slide and, most importantly, a set of uneven metal bars and a set of monkey bars, all old, worn grey metal. The uneven bars were three different heights, the tallest at least six feet off the ground. Dick threw his head back and laughed.

Jason ran to the monkey bars and climbed quickly to the top to sit down. He spread his arms. “You like it? No one uses it much anymore.”

In response, Dick blew hot air onto his hands (wished for a moment it wasn’t cold November), rubbed them together, and ran toward the uneven bars. He leapt to the middle one, only a few inches taller than him, and pulled himself up into a crouch on it.

“Woah!” Jason called.

Dick sprang from there to the tall bar and swung loosely from it. He closed his eyes and got a feel for the cold metal bar under his hands. He took three deep breaths and swung as hard as he could. He swung his legs up and over the bar, laying his body out into a plank and swinging back around toward the ground. He heard Jason gasp, and he spun over the bar again, building momentum. When he reached the nadir of his swing, he let go and his body remembered what to do. He flipped three times, pulled his feet back under himself and landed with a soft thud.

He clenched his eyes shut as Jason whooped and clapped and he let it wash over him. When he opened them, Jason smiled wide. His red hoodie was drawn tight around his wind-burned face and his eyes sparkled. Dick grinned back, took a bow, and leapt for the bars again. He spun, flipped, worked to spin from one bar down to the other and back, and Jason laughed as he switched momentum and spun backwards, slower, and flipped from the bar into a handstand and walked on his hands like a clown.

Jason’s laughter was like the ribbons on the circus tents, flowing and free, and it warmed Dick’s chest better than any blanket Jason had stashed around town. Dick hopped back to his feet. He was almost too tall for the monkey bars, but he swung across them gracefully and climbed up next to Jason. He leaned against his shoulder and laughed. “This is awesome, Jay!”

Jason visibly startled and then relaxed with a shrug. “Happy Birthday, Dickie.”

A week later it was December and Jason’s smile hadn’t been around for a few days, and when he met Dick at their park bench with a handful of money, Dick frowned. “Where did you get this?”

Jason stared at the ground. “Look, it’ll get us through a week at least. It’s good.”

“Where did you get it, Jason?”

Jason’s eyes were suddenly sharp as gemstones. “They didn’t need it.”

“They? Did you steal this?”

Jason glared at Dick. “We need this, Dick. You know we need money. I’m not gonna buy a video game or something stupid with it. We need coats. You know know we need coats. This’ll get us a couple of secondhand coats. It’s thirty bucks. What’s the big deal?”

Dick didn’t have an answer, but his stomach was churning and all he could think of was his parents, and it was as if they were giving him a disappointed look right here and now. Dick had begged on a corner with Jason a few times, hiding his embarrassment when people dropped a couple of dollars into his palm, and he had wandered around stores and restaurant asking if he could do odd jobs for a little cash, but he hadn’t stolen anything. He knew Jason stole once in a while, but this seemed different. Thirty dollars is different than a little knife or something. His parents would be horrified. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He stood and walked away.

“Dick, don’t leave!” Jason called in a strangled voice.

Dick had to move, though. He had to think. He had to figure out if this was okay, taking money from someone else to help himself. He was thirteen now. He still couldn’t get a job, even though he looked older than thirteen. Jason looked younger than nine but acted older. It was like the streets aged him faster. Would that happen to Dick now?

He found himself at the playground Jason had showed him. He threw himself at the bars again and flipped and swung and jumped and climbed until he was out of breath, panting in the harsh winter air. When he stopped, it was getting dark and his stomach twisted in hunger. He was hungry, and tired, and cold, and his parents had never had to live like this. They didn’t know what it was like out here. Dick was learning slowly, but he had to be quicker, now. He had to wake up. Jason was right. It wasn’t much money and they were going to use it for good.

He jumped down from the monkey bars and landed firmly on his cold feet. He headed back to the park bench, crossing his fingers that Jason would still be there. He shouldn’t have walked away. Sometimes Jason would come around a corner or out of a building and when he saw Dick he’d visibly relax. Jason expected him to leave, and he just had. He walked faster.

When he got back to the park bench, Jason was curled up in a ball on one end and his shoulders were shaking. Dick knelt down in front of him. “Jason,” he said.

Jason snapped his head up to stare at Dick with red, wet eyes. “You’re back?”

Dick nodded. “I’m sorry for walking away. I just had to think.”

Jason unfolded and wiped his eyes in a quick, jerky motion. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. My parents would be angry with me for stealing. We shouldn’t steal unless we have to.”

Jason frowned. “But we need coats. I can’t work the way you can. I’m not big enough.”

Dick took a deep breath. “I know. We’ll use your money for coats and food if there’s any left over. Just,” he stopped for a moment and then finished, “Just. . . we have to be careful. I’ll try to get some places to let me work again. While you’re at the library tomorrow. Okay?”

Jason smiled through his watery eyes. “Okay.” He hopped down from the bench. “That Goodwill store on the corner is open ‘till eight. Let’s go.”

They both found a warm, heavy coat for ten dollars each, and that left them twelve dollars for food the next day. When they burrowed down into Jason’s blankets in the warehouse corner that night, and Jason rested his head on Dick’s shoulder, Dick was warmer than he’d been in weeks. Maybe his parents would understand.


	5. I'll Take Your Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's the one who knows living on the streets, but when he starts to rely on things Dick doesn't approve of, things get heated. Jason figures they have things figured out, but then Dick shows up with a new boy in tow, and the bottom drops out of everything.

Jason sat outside the diner on nearby porch steps and tried not to glance up at the entrance every second. It was hard, though, and even though he found an old Newsweek magazine laying on the ground, he kept raising his head in between every paragraph of the story about some scientist in Bolivia who found a really weird new species of spider. He kept an eye out for Dick, who was inside the diner washing dishes.

Jason hated and loved days when the diner manager let Dick wash dishes for a couple hours. It meant they got to eat delicious eggs and toast (and sometimes bacon), but it often meant Jason sat on cement steps trying to not watch carefully for Dick for _hours_. Jason didn’t do this every time Dick disappeared inside to work, but some days he just couldn’t bring himself to wander off and try to find something else to do. Today was one of those days. He flipped through the magazine until a small boy called his name.

“Jason,” the boy said. “Do you have any money?”

Miguel, the boy, was about seven and had parents. He spent a lot of time on the streets, though. Jason’s mother, when she was alive, at least tried to keep him around their apartment and insisted that he come inside for dinner and stay in at night.

“Why? Can’t you eat at home tonight?” Jason answered.

Miguel scratched at his jeans. “Not tonight,” he said, staring at the ground. “Somethin’s wrong with mama and daddy don’t want me around. Told me not to come back ‘till tomorrow.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “And he didn’t give you any money?”

Miguel shook his head.

Jason sighed and stood up. “I don’t have any right now, but maybe we can go over to the edge of Park Row and get someone to help out.”

“Where’s Dick?” Miguel asked as he followed Jason.

“Workin’ today.”

“He old enough now?”

“Just looks like it. They pay him in food.”

“And you, too, then?” Miguel sighed.

“I guess. Your folks didn’t kick you out for good, did they?”

“Nah. I still got a place. And school.”

“Lucky,” Jason said as they rounded a corner into a nicer area of town. “Now, remember what I told you. Put your hand out but be nice. Say thanks.”

“Jason, why don’t we just pick their pockets? Lonnie was teachin’ me the other day.”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t wanna know what happens when you get caught is all.” Really, though, he didn’t want to push Dick anymore. The last time Jason picked a pocket he thought he’d ended things with Dick forever.

Miguel shrugged and stood next to Jason. It took about thirty minutes, but finally some dark-haired rich guy in a suit stopped in front of them.

“A little help, mister, please?” Miguel asked, and Jason was proud of him for adding the please. These rich jerks liked manners. Dick had echoed that when they started panhandling together.

The guy was on the young side, and he had black hair with a bit of a curl at its back, like Jason, and blue eyes like Dick. His suit was black with subtly thin pinstripes, and his shoes were shined so black they reflected the skyscraper nearby. He smiled at Miguel and cut his eyes to Jason and back to Miguel quickly. When he said, “Sure,” and dug into his pocket for his wallet, his voice was so gravelly that Jason looked closer. The guy had dark circles under his eyes, but it looked like he had makeup on to cover them up. Weird. When he handed each boy a twenty-dollar bill, he stepped back, like he was trying not to crowd them, and said, “Do you boys have a place to stay tonight?”

“Yes, sir,” Jason and Miguel answered in unison. A ‘no’ to that question could get you in trouble quick around here.

The man blinked and looked like he was about to say something else, but Jason added, “Thanks a lot, sir. Have a good day!” and pulled Miguel with him as he scrambled away. They didn’t need to get pulled in by some creeper, no matter how nice his suit was.

When they rounded the corner back toward Park Row, Jason made sure they weren’t being followed before he finally slowed down.

“Jason!” Miguel said, “Twenty dollars! For both of us!” He held the money in front of him like it was a treasure to behold.

Jason laughed. “It don’t happen often, but it’s nice when it does! Fuckin’ rich guys. He was an odd one.” He and Miguel walked back to the diner where Dick was working, and Jason sat back down on the steps

“Jason, you want to come over to the park? We can get some chili dogs and go over to the playground.”

Jason pulled his magazine back out. “No, thanks. I gotta wait for Dick. Go have fun, though. Oh, but if you need a spot tonight, we’ll probably be at the West Street warehouse. You know the broken-down part. You should meet us there instead of staying alone. Unless you got a couch to stay on.”

Miguel shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m gonna check with Joey and see if I can stay at his apartment, but maybe I’ll be by the warehouse. Thanks, Jason!” He said with a wave, and he ran off.

When Dick wandered out all sweaty from the hot water and back of the kitchen steam, Jason was still on the steps. Something settled in Jason’s shoulders when he saw Dick, and he stood up to wave him over.

Dick carried a couple Styrofoam carryout containers and slumped down on the steps next to Jason. His smile was bright like always, though. “Heya Jay! You hungry?”

That was about the dumbest question anyone could ask Jason, but he grinned anyway and nodded. Dick passed him a container and a fork, and he opened it up and inhaled the smell of bacon and eggs and even a pancake today. “Thanks, Dick. Did it go okay?”

“Yeah,” Dick said. “Mr. Milligan said that summer business was even better than winter and spring, and he might be able to pay me in a little bit of cash instead of just food.”

Jason swallowed a big bite of fluffy pancake and said, “I dunno. Their food’s really good.”

“Yeah, but we can save some of the cash if we get it,” Dick said around a bite of eggs.

“Hey, some rich weirdo gave me and Miguel twenty bucks each today when we went panhandling at the edge of Park Row today. It was wild. He didn’t ask for nothin’ except if we had a place to stay, either.”

Dick frowned. “You got away from him okay?”

“Yeah, Dickler,” Jason said. “I don’t think he even followed us.”

Dick laughed. “That’s a new one, Jay!” He reached over and ruffled Jason’s hair.

Jason smiled. Dick’s laugh was like music, and Jason had gotten pretty addicted to it the last few months. Two years living on the streets alone and he’d pretty much given up on finding a friend, but a couple months with Dick and he knew he’d be wrecked if Dick ever left him behind. He fully expected it, of course. Dick was thirteen and Jason wasn’t even ten, and another year or a bit more weight and muscle on his lean frame and Dick would probably get recruited by a couple of the gangs who ran for the mobsters in the Narrows. He expected it, but he would also be wrecked.

“So twenty bucks,” Jason said, stuffing another bite of eggs in his mouth. “I figure we can either get a meal and a couple cheap raincoats or a couple meals and a tarp to sleep under or on for the summer. What do you think?”

Dick ate a couple more bites before he said, “I think maybe raincoats are a good idea. Will they be bulky, though? Will we have to stash them?”

Jason at another bite of bacon. “Well, we can probably ditch our winter coats in a week or two. They won’t be too bulky for one of us to carry then.”

Dick blinked at Jason. “Ditch our coats? Why can’t we keep them?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t wanna cart mine around all summer. I mean, we can stash them, but there’s a good chance they’ll be gone before winter comes.”

Dick was quiet for a couple of minutes. “Okay, raincoats, then. And food tomorrow if we can’t scrounge anything else. You wanna go to the library tomorrow?”

Jason nodded. When they had food figured out for the day it was a good day to go to the library. When they went without a food plan, Jason didn’t enjoy it as much. Tomorrow, though, he could lose himself in something and not worry about much else. Good. There were three books on the supernatural display he had his eyes on.

Spring went quickly, with Dick working at the diner every few days and Jason keeping track of their stuff and panhandling – he was still little enough to get a few handouts every couple of days. It was late July when things changed.

It was hot as hell everywhere they tried to sleep at night, and Jason thought Dick didn’t really feel very good. He was pale and quiet, odd for Dick. He didn’t even complain when Jason said they should go to the library again, even though they’d been the day before for an hour after Dick worked.

“Dickers?” Jason asked, “Hey. Look at me.”

Dick raised his eyes from the book he was trying to read and blinked heavily. “Yeah?”

Jason frowned and reached out to press the back of his hand to Dick’s forehead like his mom used to do. Dick jerked away. “Jason, stop!”

“Are you feeling okay? You feel warm.”

Dick sighed and closed his book. He leaned back and closed his eyes. “That’s because it’s ninety degrees outside. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but we’re in the air conditioning. You thirsty?”

Dick’s voice was like gravel today. “I’ll get a bottle of aspirin from the corner store when we stop for food later,” Dick said. “It’s just a headache.”

Jason scrunched his face for a moment and then he nodded. He needed to focus on this book. It was a manual on replacing car parts, and he needed to learn a few things. Miguel had come by the other day while Dick was at the diner and told Jason about a deal his uncle made with him. He told Miguel that he’d give him ten bucks for any car parts he could steal, as long as they weren’t busted, and twenty for hubcaps and tires.

Jason had no idea how to steal car parts, but the library had a whole section on car repair and if he could snag twenty or thirty bucks in one swoop from Miguel’s uncle, Dick might not have to work so much at the diner. Dick didn’t have to know about it.

Right now, Dick sat back in his chair and was dozing. Jason pulled out the car book again. That night Dick swallowed a couple of aspirin and slept fitfully in the park. When he went to the diner the next morning, Jason went back to the library for another look at the book, and then to the corner store. He needed a wrench and a screwdriver.

He found a couple of tools under twenty bucks he hadn’t told Dick about, and he headed further into Park Row. He had about three hours before Dick would be looking for him, so he walked toward the river. He found a ratty old hatchback in a quiet spot near an alley. There was a fire escape in the alley, too, and Jason figured if he got caught, he could climb pretty fast and jump roofs to get away. He knelt down and searched the street for a minute. No one was around. He rolled under the car.

He had read about a couple things he might be able to get quickly from under the car, so he bit his lip, took a deep breath, and looked for axle rods and an oil pan. Five minutes later he rolled out from under the car, leaned around the bumper, and stood up and walked away. His breath was coming in gasps, but he ducked his head and jogged back to where he knew Miguel lived. He’d shoved the oil pan under his shirt, but it was a lot bigger than he thought so he looked silly with his shirt sticking out like a pregnant lady. He pulled the oil pan out and knocked on Miguel’s door.

A guy who was probably mid-twenties with greasy brown hair opened the door. “Yeah?”

Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Uh. Yeah, is Miguel here?”

The guy gave Jason a long once-over and cocked his head. “You got parts to deliver to Sammy?”

“Yeah,” Jason replied. Sammy. Right.

“He’s down at the shop. You know where it is?”

Jason shook his head.

“Corner of Park and 8th. Don’t bring shit around here again.”

“Okay. Okay, thanks.” Jason stood still as the guy slammed the door in his face. At least he’d let Jason keep the parts.

Jason made his way to the shop and stood in the doorway to a small office. The big garage door that faced the street held in a lot of noise, but it was also shut, and no one paid any attention to Jason. The office door was wide open. Finally, a guy who looked a lot like the guy at Miguel’s apartment wandered in and noticed Jason.

“Yeah? What do you want?” he rattled off in Spanish.

Jason blinked, switched gears in his head, and pointed to the oil pan and axle rod he held. “Miguel said money? Ten dollars?” His Spanish was passable, but not great. He’d learned from kids in the neighborhood and some of the working girls he knew. A couple of them had lived across the hall from he and his mother and they looked after him sometimes. He picked words up, but he wasn’t perfect.

The guy grabbed the parts in Jason’s hands and laid them on a table to look at them. He looked up after a minute. “Miguel send you? What’s your name?” he asked in English this time.

“Jason.”

“Okay. He told me you might bring some parts by. He tell you about hubcaps and tires?”

Jason nodded.

“These are good,” the guy said. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed Jason a twenty. “Now get out,” he added in Spanish, and he carted the parts back to the shop and Jason hurried back to the porch across from the diner. It wasn’t more than twenty minutes before Dick walked over and thrust a box of eggs and toast into Jason’s hands.

“Where’s yours?”

Dick threw himself down on the steps and rested his head in his arms. “Not hungry.”

Jason picked at his food. “Hey Dickie, I got some money today, and it should last a couple days. You don’t have to wash dishes tomorrow. You can just rest, okay?”

Dick raised his head. “You went panhandling again?”

Jason swallowed and nodded. If Dick didn’t notice the grease all over Jason’s shirt, then maybe Jason shouldn’t draw attention to it. Telling him he’d found a steady stream of money from stealing could come later. Maybe he wouldn’t steal parts again anyway. He could go ask for handouts more often and just work for Miguel’s uncle when he needed to.

He finished his eggs and stood up. “Come on, Dick. Let’s go to the park spot again. I’ll get some Gatorades on the way. You need to drink something even if you’re not hungry.”

Jason bought three Gatorades and made Dick drink one before they laid down to sleep that night, and he woke up the next morning glad that Dick was still asleep on the ground next to him. He pressed another Gatorade into Dick’s hand when he woke up late morning and took the rest of the twenty dollars they had left and bought some orange juice and bread and peanut butter for that night. Dick told him stories in between naps and slept long again the next night.

The next day, Jason told Dick to stay in the park and rest even though he was clearly feeling better. He promised Dick he’d just try panhandling, and he intended to keep his promise, but he struck out hard after three hours on various street corners. He had the tools shoved into his backpack, and when he got frustrated that no one could seem to spare more than a couple dollars that day, he wandered down a few streets and found a decent sedan parked next to an alley. No one was around. Jason took a couple of deep breaths and knelt down next to the hubcap. It looked like an easy one to take. Twenty bucks fast. Dick didn’t have to know.

He got two hubcaps. Forty bucks. They were bulky, though, so he ran as fast as he could to the shop, and when he got there, no one was in the office. He waited a bit and then wandered around the corner to see if Sammy was out back smoking or something. Sammy wasn’t there, but a tall, thin guy in a white tank top was and he took one look at Jason, stared for a second at the hubcaps in Jason’s arms, and moved faster than Jason would have ever thought he could. His fist connected with Jason’s eye and Jason stumbled back against the alley wall.

“Gimme those hubcaps, you little punk!” the guy snapped, but Jason clenched his teeth and gripped the hubcaps tighter to his chest. The guy shoved him so hard that Jason’s head hit the wall and he had to blink to clear his vision, but he didn’t let go.

“Hand ‘em over you little shit.”

Jason shook his head. Just then, Sammy came around the corner and frowned before he strode over to the guy and shoved him back. “What the hell, Mikey? You beatin’ up a little kid?”

“He stole my hubcaps!” Mikey snarled. “Was gonna try and sell ‘em to you.”

“Hey,” Jason shouted. “That’s not true. I took ‘em off a car at the edge of the Row. I did it.”

Sammy looked between the two of them and crossed his arms. “What make are the caps, Mikey?” he asked. “You stole ‘em, you oughta know.”

Mikey frowned and then stormed off. “Fuckin’ little shit. Wouldn’t let go of ‘em.”

Sammy turned back to Jason. “He got your eye good, kid. Good job holdin’ tight. Come on,” he said, and headed around the corner to the office.

Jason followed and pocketed the forty dollars as soon as Sammy handed it over. “Thanks,” he said, and headed back to Dick. By the time he got back to the park his eye had swollen shut, but he had money, and he stopped at the food truck at the edge of the park and picked up a couple bottles of water and a couple of sandwiches before he went to find Dick. He was sitting on their park bench reading a discarded newspaper.

When Jason handed him the water and sandwich, he froze. “Jason, what happened?”

Jason shrugged and sat down next to him. “It’s okay. It’s just a black eye. It’ll be fine. Are you feeling better?”

Dick opened his mouth and then closed it again. Nodded. “Yeah. My headache’s gone. I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” Jason asked, leaning into Dick’s shoulder. His adrenaline from the afternoon had left in a rush and now he was just sleepy. “Do you maybe still have a fever?”

Dick sat very still. “No, I don’t think so. I’m hungry again, and I drank the other Gatorade. Thanks, Jason.”

“Okay,” Jason said.

“What. Happened?” Dick said quietly.

Jason sighed and closed his good eye. “Some jerk thought he could beat me up is all.”

“You got more money,” Dick said. “Did he try and beat you up about that?”

“Dick,” Jason said. “It’s okay.”

“Where did you get the money, Jay?” he paused and added quietly, “I thought we agreed to only steal if it was really necessary.”

Jason sat up and glared at Dick with his good eye. “It was necessary. You were sick. I need to contribute more. I did it and I didn’t get caught until the end and it worked out. I’m fine and we have forty bucks for the next few days. You can make sure you’re feeling better before you try and work again. Besides, the diner won’t always be able to give you work. I found a way to help.”

“Jason,” Dick said, and when disappointment dripped through his voice, Jason stood up and stepped off a few paces.

“I can help if you let me, Dickie! We’re just ten and thirteen. We need to take money when we can get it you idiot!”

“Not if it gets you hurt!”

Jason blinked. Dick was worried about a black eye? “I’m fine! I held onto my stuff and the guy left me alone.” He pulled the money out of his pocket and threw it at Dick. “This is your money, too, whether you want it or not!” he snapped and then he stormed off. He walked over to the park and then he ran past it. Before he knew it, he was in front of the old building where he and his mom had stayed until she died. He found the window to their old apartment and stared up at it.

He could almost smell the place from where he stood on the street: greasy floors, moldy bathroom, trash piled in the kitchen. Jason had only been seven, but he’d tried to keep things clean. He just wasn’t big enough to keep up with it, and nights when he had to go scrounge for money or something to eat from neighbors and the street left him drained and useless except to hold his mom’s hand and try to rest before school the next day. The smell of mildew and grime never seemed to leave, even if he took out the trash and did the dishes.

He closed his eyes and heard her, though. Her voice in his memory was airy and gentle. She talked to him when she could, asked about his day, asked him to read to her, asked what he wanted for dinner before she forgot to cook it for him. She talked to him the night she died, too. Told him she was tired, told him he had to go to school the next day, told him she loved him as he held her hand and it went limp.

When the cops came and shuffled him over to his first foster home, no one talked much at all. His foster parent told him rules, told him to keep quiet, told him he couldn’t read at night before bed, told him he could only have what they gave him to eat, which left his stomach rumbling, and told him he’d better listen good and do what all the adults in the place asked.

What they asked was too much, so he ran.

Dick didn’t understand. It seemed like every memory of his parents that he shared with Jason was wonderful, dreamy, like the families Jason read about in his books. Dick’s father sounded kind and strong, not angry and violent like Jason’s. His mother sounded involved and attentive. Dick had adapted to living on the street with Jason, had never been alone. The cold, dark nights that Jason had suffered until he met Dick lingered at the edge of everything now. Jason put his hand to his black eye and pressed it gingerly until it stung.

Dick didn’t want him to get hurt, but he also didn’t want him to help. Dick wanted to shoulder their food and money alone, but Jason didn’t want either of them to do anything alone. He looked back up at his apartment window. If he used his imagination, he could see a little boy in a red hoodie staring out at him, daring him to survive. He squared his shoulders and headed back to where he’d left Dick.

He wasn’t there. Jason ran to the park, to their meeting bench. He wasn’t there, either. Jason sat down and waited. Night fell. Dick didn’t come. A dark, swirling feeling fluttered in Jason’s chest and he pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. It got dark and he was going to be alone again and that was it. Jason could survive. He’d done it before.

“Jason?” Dick called.

Jason snapped his head up and blew out a relieved breath. Dick kept surprising him by coming back, but… but now there was a smaller boy standing next to Dick. His hair was as black as Dick’s and his eyes were just as blue, but he had a sharp, angular face and his mouth turned down in a determined frown. His clothes were clean and new. Jason stood up, tense and wary.

“Jason, this is Tim. Tim needs some help tonight. He’s going to stay with us.” 


	6. Feeling Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim runs away to learn the streets of Gotham (and because no one will care if he goes) and meets Dick Grayson in a stroke of luck. The other kid, Jason, doesn't seem like he thinks it's lucky. Tim figures he can work on Jason if he'll give him a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the week off from posting. Parenting during a pandemic is hard, as it turns out, and another writing obligation also interfered. I should be back on track now! Thanks for your patience and thanks for reading this!

Tim climbed off of the city bus and tugged his blue backpack straps tighter. He headed for the street. He was going to live in Gotham and try to be like Batman. Batman protected people and made Gotham better. Tim could find some way to help in Gotham and maybe he could work hard and become a vigilante, too. He just needed to grow some. He’d memorized a map of Gotham, but now he needed to really learn the place. When he’d drawn up an outline of his plan, he’d labeled this part “go street level.”

“Hey little dude,” said a bulky-shouldered teen in a grey hoodie and ripped jeans. He had a black baseball hat on, and his arms looked like they were bigger around than his waist.

Tim was hurrying past the entrance to a smelly alley, but the kid reached out and yanked him into it and then shoved. Tim stumbled to the ground and scrambled to stand up. His heart sped up and he started to sweat.

“Where you going?” the kid taunted. “You look like you could share with the class from whatever you got in that fancy backpack.”

Tim closed his eyes for a moment. He was an idiot. He’d grown up seeing what Gotham was like. Why didn’t he pick worse clothes and switch out for an older backpack? He should’ve known better. He took a deep breath. “I can share,” he said brightly, and he reached over to open his backpack. He pulled out two water bottles and a bag of crackers and a bag of cheese he’d packed for himself. He held them out to the kid with a smile.

The kid slapped them out of Tim’s hands. “Fuck that. You have money. You’re practically dripping with it. Give it here,” he growled.

Tim swallowed and reached into the backpack again. He had a money clip with half of the allowance he’d saved over the last three months. He pulled it out and held it up. The guy snatched it and flipped through it with a grin. While he was distracted, Tim spotted a ladder to a fire escape and ran. The kid hollered and Tim climbed.

It was too much trouble or something because when he clambered onto the roof, the kid below hadn’t followed. Apparently, food and about sixty dollars in cash was enough for him. Tim sat panting on the rooftop and zipped his bag shut with a shaking hand.

“Hey,” another kid’s voice said, and Tim couldn’t help the way he flinched back against the ledge of the roof. He pulled his bag tight to his chest and stared at the gravel in front of him, like if he didn’t meet the boy’s eyes he might not get bothered.

The older boy knelt down across from Tim, though, a few feet away, and sat quietly before he said, “I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not going to take your stuff. Are you hurt?”

Tim raised his eyes and took in the easy smile and bright blue eyes of the boy across from him, and the shock of black hair that hung in his face. It was the smile that struck Tim. He’d seen it before. “Uh, I’m okay. Have we met?” Tim asked, and now it was the boy’s turn to blink and frown.

“I don’t think so? My name’s Dick. What’s your name?”

Tim’s brain sometimes worked like a catalogue, and it was suddenly flipping through images and names. “Are you Dick Grayson?” he asked, and he couldn’t keep the awe out of his voice. He stared at Dick’s face again and took in the sharp lines and the way he sat comfortably, like his body would do whatever he needed it to do.

Dick sat back on his heels. “How did you know that?” he asked, warily.

Tim grinned. “You were a Flying Grayson! I met you!” and then the night came rushing back and Tim was sitting next to his mother when Dick’s parents screamed as their rope broke and they pummeled to the ground. Tim’s mother tried to shield Tim, but he saw their bodies hit with a thud, and he could feel the hush of horror as the whole audience tried to process what they’d seen.

“Kid, hey,” Dick said, and when Tim opened his eyes again Dick was right in front of him, holding his shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispered. “I saw your parents fall. You disappeared that night and I saw the whole thing.” His father had read the news report a couple days later, about how the young Grayson boy had run from police custody before anyone could offer him a place to stay or a foster family. His father had muttered, ‘stupid kid,’ and Tim had been horrified.

Now Dick Grayson of The Flying Graysons was kneeling next to him and looking at him with worry and sadness in his eyes. “I met you,” Tim repeated, as if that would help anything.

Dick looked intensely sad for a moment before a smile stole across his face. “I remember you,” he said. “You had your picture taken with me before the show. Your parents were bored.”

Tim couldn’t help his sigh. “They’re always bored around me,” he said. “That’s why I ran away. I’m tired of living alone and they’d be less bored if I were around,” he said with a shrug. It didn’t hurt him to say, but Dick looked at him like he’d been burned or something.

“You ran away?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Tim said, and he pulled himself to his feet and knelt down to close his backpack. “I’m going to learn to live on the streets of Gotham and when I get bigger I’m going to be a vigilante like Batman.”

Dick stood up and smiled. “Oh yeah? How old are you? Five?”

Tim frowned. “I’m eight. I skipped two grades in school, so I just finished sixth grade. Don’t need school to learn as long as I go to the library, and I’m smart enough and quick enough to take care of myself out here. I got away from that bully down there,” he said, gesturing to the alley below.

Dick nodded and looked down at the street where Tim had climbed from. “You sound like my friend. He likes libraries, too. What about your parents? Won’t they worry?”

Tim squinted at Dick. “Parents don’t worry. They just have to feed you and keep a roof over your head. I can handle that without them.”

Dick didn’t say anything for a minute, but then he sneezed and rubbed his hand down his face. “Okay, what’s your name? You never told me.”

“Oh, my name’s Timothy Jackson Drake. You can call me Tim, though.” He crossed his fingers behind his back. It was always impossible to convince anyone older than him to call him Tim. Every adult he met, including teachers, insisted on calling him Timothy. The kids at school didn’t talk to him, though, so he hadn’t really gone by Tim ever. When they were bullying him, the kids at school enjoyed drawing out his full name. Tim would be his street name, he hoped.

Dick smiled and nodded. “Okay, Tim, you should come with me. My friend Jason and I look out for each other. We can look out for you, too. You shouldn’t stay by yourself out here.”

Tim had completely planned on staying out here by himself, but this was Dick Grayson! He’d invited Tim to come and he was a Flying Grayson. Maybe he’d teach Tim some tricks for when he becomes a vigilante! He nodded somberly. “Thank you, Dick.”

They climbed down to the alley and Tim pulled his windbreaker tighter around his chest as they walked toward Robinson Park. Dick coughed and sneezed again, but his steps were bright. When they got there, Dick headed for a park bench where another boy sat hunched over. He looked surprised to see Dick when Dick called his name, and he glared at Tim when Dick introduced him.

“He saw me perform in the circus!” Dick said to Jason. “He’s eight, so I thought maybe he could stay with us for a bit. He shouldn’t be alone.”

Jason was only an inch or so taller than Tim and maybe skinnier, and he crossed his arms tightly across his chest as Dick explained that Tim was staying. His green eyes were dark, and he frowned hard at Tim. “You got any money?” Jason asked.

“Jason!” Dick sputtered. “That doesn’t matter. Tim, it doesn’t matter. We’ll show you where we’re sleeping tonight, come on,” he said, and he left the park bench. Tim followed Dick. He glanced back once at Jason, who was standing still and glaring at them, and then he faced forward and figured that if Dick was okay with showing him a place to sleep, he couldn’t worry about this Jason kid.

“Tim,” Dick said as he rounded a corner to reveal a door to an old, run-down warehouse, “This is our safest spot. If we get split up, though, we always go back to that park bench where we met Jason.” He leaned around Tim and called out, “Come on, Jason. Be nice to Timmy!”

Dick’s voice was rich and then it broke a little at the end. It was filled with affection, though.

“Dick,” Tim said as he followed him inside. “Are you and Jason related?”

Jason barked out a laugh behind him. “Nope. No way. He’s a ball of sunshine and grew up in the circus. I’m,” he said, and then he stopped before muttering, “Not.”

“Jason helped me get used to living in Gotham and we’re brothers now,” Dick said, and Jason’s eyes widened and then he stared at the ground. Dick led all of them around a couple of crates and to a corner. He reached behind a crate to a spot Tim hadn’t seen before and pulled out a pile of blankets. “Look, it’s late and it sounds like we’ve all had a rough day. Let’s get some sleep and then figure things out in the morning, okay? Come on, Jason. Get some rest.”

Jason pulled a blanket from the pile and settled down on the floor. Dick sat down next to him and pulled him closer. Tim fiddled with his backpack and finally sat down. Dick handed him a blanket. “Thanks,” Tim whispered, and then shifted until he was a little bit comfortable. He spared a thought to his big bed back home, and then clenched his eyes shut. That place was empty and boring, and no one would care if he was gone. He’d been incredibly lucky to meet Dick Grayson tonight, and maybe Jason would come around. Tim went to sleep quickly and slept hard.

The next morning, he woke up disoriented and hungry. Jason was still asleep, and Dick was out in the middle of the warehouse doing some stretches and what looked like yoga to Tim. Tim yawned and Dick noticed he was awake.

Dick’s “Good morning, Tim!” was loud, and Jason stirred.

“Shut up, Dickling,” Jason muttered, and Tim couldn’t help his snicker. Dickling.

Dick grinned. “He’s always creative with my name.” He stretched some more and muffled a cough.

Tim rifled through his backpack for the water bottle that was left, and he cracked it open and took a long drink. He stood and wandered over to where Dick was stretching. Dick was on the ground twisting his back with his foot across his knee and Tim sat down and tried to imitate him. He got tangled in his legs and toppled to the side.

Dick laughed and propped him up. “Here, it’s like this,” Dick said, and tugged on Tim’s leg, putting his foot in the right position. “Now twist gently. Not too hard.”

Tim nodded and followed along as Dick showed him a few more stretches while Jason roused himself and threw one of the blankets back in the spot from the night before. He called out to Dick. “I’m leaving your blanket out, Dickers! You should rest after you’re done with your twisting. I’m gonna go get us some breakfast.”

Dick stopped abruptly and crossed his arms. “I’m okay, Jason. I got a good night’s sleep last night.”

Jason shook his head and Tim felt like he was watching a tennis match. “Nope,” Jason said. “A day’s rest. After breakfast I’ll take Tim to the library while you sleep some more.”

Tim turned back to Dick, who looked at him and sighed. “Okay, Jay. This time you win. We’re not done talking about what you did, though.”

Jason looked like a thundercloud, but he nodded and said to Tim, “You like pancakes?”

Tim grinned and nodded. Jason gave Dick and Tim a nod and disappeared out into the streets and came back twenty minutes later with three orders of McDonalds’ pancakes and orange juice for all of them. They ate quietly and Dick yawned when he was done.

“See?” Jason said quietly. “You should nap.”

Jason was worried about Dick. It was nice. After breakfast, Jason did as he said and took Tim to the Gotham Library branch that was just a few blocks away. Jason walked fast, didn’t say anything, and barely looked to make sure Tim was keeping up. When they got inside, Jason turned to Tim. “You like reading?” he asked.

Tim shrugged. “It’s okay. Do you have to have a card to use the computers? I like reading the news online.”

Jason blinked at him and then shook his head. “You can use anything in here without a card. I don’t have one.”

“Okay. Thanks for bringing me with you, Jason,” Tim said.

Jason just stared at him for a moment and then turned and walked away. Tim headed for a computer. He did read the news, everything in the Gotham Gazette except the sports page, which he skimmed. He carefully read the culture page where there was a story about Bruce Wayne.

Tim liked Bruce Wayne. He acted a little crazy at the few galas Tim had attended, but he was kind to Tim and seemed mostly just acting when it came to his crazy. Tim had caught him watching the crowd carefully and faking his drinks every time they were at a gala together. So, Tim read about him and kind of identified with him. Sure, Tim’s parents were still alive, but Tim was eight and on his own anyway, just like Mr. Wayne had been orphaned at that age. He had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Pennyworth, whom Tim had met only once, had taken better care of Bruce Wayne than Tim’s parents took of him, but it was only a suspicion.

After he read the newspaper, he pulled up the GCPD web page and combed through the recent arrest records and public records available. He was looking for hints that Batman was working on things, but it was mostly conjecture at this point. Another question was how much Commissioner Gordon knew about the bat. Tim always looked for evidence of that connection, but he hadn’t found much so far. When he finished combing those pages, he looked up. Almost two hours had passed, and he hadn’t seen Jason.

Tim found him in a corner on a dusty green beanbag, lying flat on his back with his head hanging over the edge and reading a book called _Sirens of Titan_ practically upside down. “I haven’t read anything by Vonnegut yet,” Tim said quietly.

Jason didn’t even move, but he said, “This is my first try at him. You’ve heard of him?”

Tim nodded and picked at his shirtsleeve. “I guess he’s pretty famous. I’ve heard of _Slaughterhouse Five_ , but only because one of the classes at my school was reading it together.”

Jason dropped his book to his lap. “What grade are you in?”

A little thrill ran through Tim’s chest at Jason’s attention. “Well, I guess I’m supposed to be in fourth, but I just finished sixth. My school goes all the way to twelfth grade, though, and it was one of the high school classes that was reading him. My math class was in the high school wing.”

Jason rolled over and sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. “You know you can’t go to school out here. You have to have an address.” He quirked his lips like he was trying to figure Tim out.

Tim shrugged. “Yeah. I was good at school, but I didn’t like it much. My parents sent me away for it. I didn’t like the place.”

“You went to a boarding school?” Jason asked with a frown.

Tim nodded.

Jason ran a hand frantically through his hair and his voice got loud. “You were rich enough to go to a boarding school where you skipped grades, and you ran away yesterday to live on the streets of Gotham?”

Tim looked around to see if anyone noticed. No one had. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, I really hated that school. Everyone was mean and the classes were boring, and they were all snobs, even the teachers. I can learn on my own. I don’t need school.”

Jason crossed his arms. “You don’t talk like you’re eight.”

Tim kicked the beanbag. “Yeah, everyone says that. It’s not news.” He’d gotten picked on relentlessly at school and even his mother once told him he needed to ‘dial it back’ if he wanted friends.

“You don’t talk like you’re eight and you’re a rich kid. Your parents are gonna freak out. Also, the streets suck. You’re an idiot.”

Tim clenched his fists. “I’m not rich anymore and I don’t care. My parents don’t care and won’t freak out. They’ll be glad, if they even notice. You don’t know everything.”

Jason stood up. He stared at Tim for a moment and then he flipped Tim off. “I know more than you, you little brat. Fuck you.”

Tim flinched as Jason stormed past him, and he stood in the corner, staring at the beanbag, for a long time. He was alone again.


	7. I Don't Expect to Sleep Through the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason comes to terms with Tim. It's Scarecrow's fault, really. 
> 
> (TW: implied child abuse in one conversation)

Tim found his way back to Jason and Dick, just like Jason insisted he would.

“You told him about the park bench! He’ll come back!” Jason shouted. He was hot and vibrating in anger as Dick glared at him. “He will.”

“He probably doesn’t know the way, Jason! Why did you leave him alone?

Jason jerked his head down, away from Dick. He couldn’t answer. He just couldn’t. He’d stormed out of the library and hardly spared a glance around as he walked to the park. Tim left a _home_. He left _parents_ with money enough to send him to boarding school and he was smart enough to go to high school two years ahead, which meant college two years ahead and if his parents were rich enough to send him to boarding school then they could definitely afford college, and what the actual hell? Who runs away from that? _Not_ Jason

Dick sighed and sat down on the bench next to Jason and leaned into his shoulder. He put his hand on Jason’s back the way he did when he wanted Jason to feel safe. Maybe it was something his dad had done for him before. “Jay, he’s just a little kid. Come help me find him. We’ll talk this out after.”

Jason hugged his arms. “I don’t want to talk it out and I don’t want to find him. Why do you care, anyway? He just showed up! If he doesn’t come back here, he’ll run back to his mansion in Bristol and be just fine.”

“He has a mansion in Bristol?”

Jason turned to Dick. “His parents are loaded enough to send him to boarding school! He ran away from that! What kind of idiot does that?”

Dick frowned. “Someone who really hates his life. He told me his parents didn’t care if he was around. Said that he bored them. He must _really_ hate home.”

Jason kicked the bench with the back of his foot. “Yeah, well, at least he has one. He’s nuts to want to run here. I hate it here.”

For some reason, that made Dick reach out and ruffle Jason’s hair. “Come on, Jay. Let’s go find him. We can all hate it here together.”

Jason sighed dramatically and climbed down off the bench. When he turned, he groaned. “See, I told you he could make it back here.”

Tim was crossing the park toward the bench, gripping his backpack straps, and Dick laughed. “Hey Tim! You made it back!”

Tim approached slowly, eyeing Jason like he might growl or leap like an animal. “I memorized a map,” he said with a tiny shrug.

Memorized a map. What the hell? Jason sat back down on the park bench as Dick led Tim over and glared at Jason. Jason glared right back at Dick.

After a moment, Dick sighed and said, “Tim, I’m sorry you had to find your way back alone.”

Jason stayed quiet and picked at his hoodie sleeve.

“It’s okay. Are you feeling better, Dick?” Tim asked politely.

“Yep. Right as rain. The napping definitely helped,” Dick replied. “Let’s figure out lunch.”

Summer crested with muggy heat and difficult nights trying to sleep while roasting. Tim stuck with them but had a weird habit of running off at night if he couldn’t convince Jason and Dick to come with him. He was looking for Batman, he said. He had a small, digital camera and liked to take pictures. They tried to stick together most nights, but a few times Jason had stood his ground that Dick needed to rest since he was the one picking up odd jobs to keep them fed and Tim had slipped out to look for the Bat anyway

During the days, Jason had done a pretty good job hiding any car part theft from Dick and Tim, ditching Tim from time to time at the library to go snatch a brake pad or spark plug for a few dollars. He also taught Tim how to panhandle, but Tim resisted doing this a lot of the time.

“I just don’t like doing it,” Tim muttered when Jason asked him to come along.

“But you’re tiny. Some folks give more money if you’re little,” Jason said. He added, “But we have to be careful of do-gooders who want to throw you into the foster care system. It’s a matter of keeping your distance and being ready to run.”

“Jason, I don’t want to,” Tim protested.

“You like Dick, right?” Jason asked.

Tim cocked his head like Jason had grown another head. “Everyone likes Dick,” he answered

It was true, so Jason barreled on. “Well, he shouldn’t be the only one bringing in money.”

Tim was silent, so Jason threw up his hands. “Fine. I’m gonna go get us some money. Stay here and keep an eye out for Dick. Maybe ask him to take you the good playground and teach you something when he’s done. He likes that. I’ll be back later.

Jason stalked away and didn’t look back. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Tim – it was hard to get emotional about him at all, really, because he just sort of went along with things as long as he could run around at night watching for Batman. Jason was just sort of wired to think about money and the next meal all the time, so he couldn’t go the library _every_ time Dick picked up a job for the morning.

It was edging into fall when he slipped away from Tim and ran into some real trouble

“I heard that the gangsters down at the clubs leave their cars for hours,” Ronnie said. Ronnie was a kid around Dick’s age but had started doing jobs for the gangs sometimes. He had run to catch up to Jason when he’d seen him. “Nice cars. Good tires and rims and even better engine parts. Wanna help me give it a go? I bet we can get fifty bucks each if we do it.

Fifty bucks was at least three days of food for the boys, and Dick and Tim could just rest or practice parkour like they currently loved to do, and Jason could spend a whole day at the library. There was a new _Redwall_ novel coming out next week, and he could read it in a day if he didn’t have to worry about anything. “Fifty bucks? Yeah?” Jason asked.

Ronnie licked his lips and ran his freckled hand through his bleached hair. “Yeah. But actually, Jason, if you want a _really_ good score, you should come with me to the docks in a couple hours. You’re fast. You can make a run for me and I can get you a hundred.

Jason frowned. “A run? What kind of run?” He’d heard of kids being used as ‘runners,’ but he’d never done it.

Ronnie cracked his knuckles and leaned close. “So we each grab a package from the docks, like a box, and if we get it to the club in the Cauldron in under an hour we get a hundred bucks. I got word they need more runners tonight. If you can make two runs you get two hundred. Two hundred, Jason! Can’t beat that!”

Jason bit his lip. Two hundred dollars. A couple weeks’ worth, and they could save up what Dick made and whatever else Jason could bring in. Two hundred dollars. Jason folded his arms to hug himself. The thing was, Jason wasn’t an idiot. If they were paying like that then the risk was fucking high. The risk could be cops and juvie, or it could be something worse. Jason didn’t want any of it.

Dick would be so pissed, too. He still yelled when Jason stole car parts or lifted wallets. Dick said they could work honestly. Dick was almost fourteen and had still been growing. Most people thought he was at least sixteen, and Tim was talking about forging a driver’s license for him so he could get a regular job before winter. If Jason got arrested or worse, they’d both never speak to him again, probably.

“No,” Jason said. “I can’t. Thanks, though, Ronnie,” he added, and he turned quickly to get away from the conversation.

“You’ll regret it!” Ronnie called after him.

Jason ran back to the park and found Tim swinging his legs on their park bench and reading a magazine.

“Where’s Dick?”

Tim looked up. His hair had gotten long, and he’d lost some of the baby fat in his cheeks. He’d been with Jason and Dick for almost four months. He’d recently started putting his hair up in a bun, which Jason teased him mercilessly about. Tim didn’t seem to care. “Dick’s getting some supplies from the corner store,” Tim said. “I found this copy of Wired magazine, Jason, just lying on the ground! It’s an expensive magazine and it’s about science and technology and cool stuff. I’m reading an article about wifi and book publishing. You’d like it.”

The thing was, Tim was constantly sharing things he thought Jason and Dick would like. Jason had to admit, it was kinda nice. “Yeah? That’s cool,” Jason said, but he sat down on the cool fall grass and put his head in his hands.

“Jason?” Dick called as he approached with a bag. “You okay? Where were you?”

Jason pulled at a blade of grass. “I was talking to Ronnie. I’m fine.” Two hundred dollars. He’d passed up two hundred dollars. Who knew kids could make two hundred dollars in one go?

Dick tossed him a bottle of water and a banana. “Ronnie’s trouble, Jay. Be careful.”

“I know he’s trouble,” Jason answered as he peeled his banana. “That’s why I passed up two hundred dollars.”

“What?

Jason glanced up and then back down at the grass. “He said if I helped him run some things from the docks to the Cauldron then I could get two hundred dollars. The docks to the Cauldron is tough territory, though, so I said no.” He blew out a breath. “Two hundred would help us a lot is all.”

Dick knelt down and leaned into Jason’s shoulder. “It’s a lot, but it doesn’t sound worth the risk. We have to stay away from cops.

“I know, Dickson.

“Hey, I like that one!” Tim exclaimed with a grin. “Dickson. I’m putting that on the list.”

Dick sighed. “Above or below ‘Dickington’?

Tim hesitated, then said, “Below, I think. It’s a good one, but not that good.” He hopped down from the bench and sat next to Dick. “Maybe something big is happening at the docks. Should we tell Batman?

“Tim,” Jason whined, “Sherry probably just tells you she’s telling Batman. I doubt she can do that so easily.” Tim was so obsessed with Batman. He even had a theory that Bruce Wayne was Batman, but that was so stupid it couldn’t be true, even with Occam’s Razor, like Tim tried to use.

Tim shrugged. “I still need to try, and then maybe we can find a place near the docks to watch!”

“He acts like it’s a football game or something,” Jason muttered

They told Sherry anyway. Tim bounced on his toes and explained to her that if they got the word out, someone would tell Batman, and Jason spoke to Maraina about it so all of the women knew to spread the word to the Batman if they could. Trouble at the docks. And Tim wanted to go get popcorn and watch.

“I don’t want popcorn,” Tim complained. “I just think we’ll see him tonight, and it’s always good to watch him for ways to do stuff!”

“What, are you taking lessons?” Jason asked. When Tim just scowled and stared at his shoes, Jason shook his head. “He is, Dickie. He’s taking lessons.

Dick nodded. “I bet Batman’s a good teacher,” he said, and he ruffled Tim’s hair

They headed for the dock area and took to the roofs when they got close. All three boys had gotten adept at leaping between rooftops and knowing which gaps they couldn’t jump. Jason always was somehow freer when they were running and jumping, and Dick practically flew. When they all made it to the roof, they spread out a bit to get a better view of the dock area.

It was Tim who spotted Scarecrow.

“Dick!” He called, and Jason and Dick both scrambled over to him. “Look!” he whispered, and usually Jason would tease him for whispering on a roof when no one else was around

Tonight, though, Jason was too busy backing up into Dick and shaking. “That’s Scarecrow! Dick,” he whispered, “That’s Scarecrow, oh shit, Dick.”

Tim’s mouth was a thin line and Dick was kneeling in front of Jason.

“Scarecrow? Jason, who’s Scarecrow?” Dick asked. He hadn’t grown up in Gotham.

Jason closed his eyes for a moment, trying to drive memories from two years ago away. Hiding. Hiding from the gas that was spraying from a train, hiding from the people who were stumbling around the streets, gas-drunk and wild, hiding from the gangsters who got hit with it full-on and were convinced everyone was trying to kill them. Jason hid for two days after getting shoved and hit on his way to his spot, and maybe he breathed a little of it in because he shook and jumped at every single noise and breeze all night and his nightmares were so vivid that he didn’t want to sleep for days.

“Scarecrow is bad,” Tim said. “Batman needs to know this. This is what’s at the docks. What if the runners are carrying fear toxin right to the clubs?”

“Not our problem, Timmy,” Jason breathed. “We need to get the hell out of here.

“Fear toxin?” Dick asked. “It sounds like both of you are right. Batman needs to know, and we need to get out of here.” His mouth hardened into a line. “Okay, you two get back to the park. I’ll go to the police station. I bet they won’t pay any attention to me after I tell them since this is so bad.”

Jason didn’t like any of them close to the police station, but Dick was probably right about that. “Not the park,” he said. “If it’s fear, then we need to be inside. Meet us at the warehouse.”

The boys scrambled back down to the street and Dick took off for the station. Jason and Tim headed for the warehouse. Jason was leading and he took a sharp turn down a one-way street and hit a wall. It was actually a large person in a black suit of Kevlar, but it felt like a wall. He fell to the ground with a thud.

“Hey kid,” Batman said, and it sounded as if he gargled glass on his off hours. “Are you okay?”

Jason had apparently lost his voice, but Tim found his, no problem.

“Batman! Did you know Scarecrow’s down at the docks?” he said, pointing frantically the way they’d come. “He’s on,” Tim said, and then he screwed his eyes shut and muttered for a second before he opened them again and said, “He’s on the north docks close to the second check station!”

Batman frowned. “You boys saw him?”

“Yes!” Tim said, absolutely delighted.

Jason jumped to his feet and grabbed Tim by the shirt. “Come on, we have to go, and Batman’s got work to do.”

Tim yanked away. “We think he’s sending fear toxin to the clubs in the Cauldron!”

Batman took a step back and crossed his arms. “How would you know that?”

Tim gulped and turned to Jason.

Jason glared. “It’s just his guess. He’s kinda weird about figuring stuff out,” he said, and turned back to Tim. “Come. On.”

Tim hesitated, but when Jason pushed past Batman and ran, Tim followed. They turned another corner, and someone called Jason’s name. They skidded to a halt. It was Ronnie. He was balancing two crates on his shoulders and it looked like he was going to drop one of them. The crates were the size of about five shoe boxes put together, but they were clearly heavy. Ronnie’s freckled face was dripping with sweat.

“Jason,” he panted. “Jason, help. Carry one of these for me. I can’t carry them both.”

When the boys moved closer, it was obvious one of the crates was torn open. There were glass bottles of blue liquid inside. “I don’t want to help you,” Jason said, and backed up. “That’s Scarecrow toxin. Ronnie, you’re carrying fear toxin.”

“It’s gonna get me three hundred bucks, Jason. He upped the price – that’s why I took two. One-fifty each. Come on. Carry one of them the rest of the way and I’ll give you a hundred of it. Come on, it’s really heavy. I thought I could do two, but I can’t. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t make it to the Cauldron in an hour.”

Jason didn’t want Ronnie to get killed. He was an idiot, but that didn’t mean he should get killed. He squared his shoulders.

“No, Jason,” Tim whispered, horrified. “You can’t.

Jason swallowed and closed his eyes. His breath was coming shallow and fast.

“Help me, goddammit!” Ronnie yelled. “You have to help me! I’ll kill you the next time I see you, Jason fucking Todd, if you don’t help me!”

Jason blinked. Time seemed to mock his inability to know what to do by slowing down and giving him every chance to make up his mind.

Tim’s voice shattered the spell. “You can’t help Scarecrow, Jason!”

Jason took a shuddering breath and nodded at Tim. “I know, Tim.” He turned back to Ronnie. “No.”

Ronnie took a step toward Jason, and time slowed again when he stumbled and dropped the open crate of toxin. It fell to the ground and a bottle shattered, the sound filling the air with a sickening crash. The blue liquid splashed out and stained the ground from Ronnie straight to Tim, and it vaporized immediately into a thick blue cloud.

Time snapped back to normal as Jason yanked Tim by his coat away and down the street. Tim stumbled and Jason got a better grip on his arm, pulling him away from the blue cloud as Ronnie’s screams filled the night. Jason dragged Tim for three streets before he finally got to the warehouse and managed to push Tim inside.

They huddled in their corner. Tim’s eyes were shut tight and tears leaked out. His breaths were short and fast.

“Tim!” Jason cried. “Look at me, Timmy!” Jason hadn’t seen Tim cry once since he came to the streets, and now he was clearly trying to hold himself together. “You’re safe, Tim,” he whispered, remembering the way people had screamed and crashed around two years ago. Tim had drawn his knees up and still hadn’t opened his eyes.

A siren wailed.

“Tim,” Jason said, holding him by the shoulders, “That’s the warning signal. Dick must have gotten to the police. He’ll be back soon, okay? It’s okay, Tim.”

Tim shook and the tears that had been leaking were suddenly streaming. “Don’t make me go, please,” he sobbed, quietly.

Jason sat down on the bench and leaned in. Tim was crying like he was trying to be quiet and holding himself tight. Jason used to do that when Willis was around. Jason folded himself tight and whispered through tears to his mother, too. He blinked away the memory and wrapped his arm around Tim. “It’s okay, Tim. Dick’s on his way. We’re safe here.”

“I don’t want to go!” Tim suddenly said, louder. “Don’t make me go! Let me stay with you!”

Jason’s heart sank. Was Tim worried about Jason sending him away? Now? “You’re staying with us, Tim. You stood up to Batman earlier and knew that Ronnie was bad news. You can stay. You can stay.”

Tim kept crying, shaking quietly under Jason’s arm until Dick tore into the warehouse and threw himself down to wrap Jason and Tim both in a hug.

“You both made it back,” he breathed. “You’re safe.”

“Something’s wrong with Tim,” Jason said. “I think he got some fear toxin in him.”

“What? How?” Dick exclaimed.

Jason recounted their path back to the warehouse and pushed away from Tim and Dick to stand.

Tim cried out. “Jason! Jason! Don’t leave! Please don’t leave! I won’t make you mad anymore! I won’t! I promise!” he hiccupped and shook in Dick’s arms and then a horrified look crossed his face. He whispered through his tears, “I’m sorry I was loud! Please don’t leave, Jason. I’ll be quiet and you can stay.”

Dick stared.

Jason knelt back down and put his hand on Tim’s knee. He swallowed and reached out to run his hand through Tim’s sweat-soaked black hair. It had fallen out of its usual bun in stringy strands sticking to his face. “Tim. I’m staying right here. I won’t leave, okay?” He turned to Dick. “He doesn’t want to be loud. He’s been trying to be quiet the whole time, like someone taught him not to cry or be loud. I bet it was his damned parents.”

Tim gasped and shook his head, hard. “Please don’t send me back to my parents. Please don’t make me go back there. Please. Please.” He grabbed Dick’s shirt and held so tight his knuckles turned white. “Please don’t make me go home. I don’t want to. I don’t want to.”

Scarecrow’s fear toxin made Tim panic about going home. Now what Dick told Jason before was confirmed: Tim had a horrible home life and horrible parents. Jason pulled Tim into a fierce hug. “I told you, Timmy. You’re staying with us. You’re ours now. You’re not going home to your parents. They don’t deserve you.”


	8. Poor Boys and Pilgrims

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is trying his hardest to take care of them all, but it's not easy.

Dick observed Jason and Tim without them knowing sometimes. Family had always been more than just his parents in the circus, and now he just understood in his bones that Jason and Tim were his family. The two younger boys had come together in the days after Tim got dosed with fear toxin, and now they were practically inseparable. Jason didn’t leave Tim to sit by himself as often when Dick was washing dishes, and Tim was constantly rattling off some cool fact he’d read in the library as they ate in the park or in the warehouse. Jason would ask and ask and ask about everything Tim shared, like he was trying to press the knowledge into his brain. Dick had never met anyone, kid or adult, who read as much as Jason and Tim. Well, Jason read books and Tim collected facts, but still. Dick hadn’t grown up reading, and he couldn’t really think of anyone in the circus who read for a hobby – books and traveling didn’t seem to mix.

Now, as Jason sprawled out on a beanbag with a book held above his face, and Tim sat at a computer skimming some news article, it was clear that reading was a big part of their lives. Jason still got cranky if he didn’t get to the library every few days, and Tim’s chatter died off the longer he was away from the computers and periodical section. Dick had never known a kid who devoured information the way Tim did.

Jason spotted Dick and rolled off the beanbag and up to his feet. He stretched, and his too small hoodie rode up to show how thin he was. Dick had lost some muscles despite all the time on the playground and the roofs of Gotham, but it bothered him that Jason was two years older than Tim, but the same height _and_ he was a toothpick.

“You don’t have to get up, Jay,” Dick said. “I just wanted to check on you two.”

“You’re finished doing dishes?” Jason asked with a frown.

“Yeah, they weren’t very busy today. I think Mr. Meenan let me do some just so he could give me a twenty.”

Jason shrugged. “Better than nothin’. It’s just I was gonna go see if I could scrape some together while you worked, but, uh.” He lifted the book he was reading and smiled sheepishly.

Dick ruffled his hair. “That’s okay, Jay. We’ve got dinner money as it stands.” Dick marveled again how life had shrunk to hour-by-hour here. What was the next meal? Where were they sleeping that night? Those were really the only questions. Jason coughed into his arm and reminded Dick of the other question out here: would they stay healthy? Even though it rarely ran him down, it seemed like Jason always had a cold or a headache or something. At least twice, last winter, Jason spent days throwing up and fighting Dick about going to the clinic. He wouldn’t go. Now Dick was worried that the cold he’d clearly passed to Jason was going to get worse before it got better.

“Oh, hey Dick!” Tim called as he twisted around in a computer chair.

“Hey Timmy,” Dick said. “You guys want to keep reading for a bit?”

Both boys grinned and nodded.

“Okay. I’m going over to my playground. Come by when you’re done, and we’ll figure out dinner.” He left. The weather was chilly and grey and a little damp out, that November air creeping in early. He stopped by another restaurant that sometimes let him wash dishes, but the manager who was paranoid about Dick’s age was working and wouldn’t let him do anything. He headed for the playground.

“Hey, Grayson!”

Dick turned and stopped walking. It was some guy he’d seen around a lot, but he didn’t know him.

“You’re Grayson?” the guy asked, sauntering up to Dick and raking his eyes from Dick’s head down to his toes. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it.

Dick stood still and didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if it was the guy’s steely grey eyes or the way green alligator boots poked out of his faded blue jeans, but he got a bad vibe.

“I hear you’re pretty quick and light on your feet,” the guy said. “My name’s Rick and I run the gang of runners for Falcone. I hear you’re fast and I need some fast. You want a job?”

Dick bit his lip and stepped back a bit. He shook his head. “I can’t work for you.”

Rick cocked his head. “Yeah? Why not? You ain’t even heard about the forty bucks a run I’m offerin’ you.”

“Yeah, well, thanks, but no,” Dick said, but he’d hesitated, and Rick had clearly caught it.

“Forty bucks a run, and a run every couple days guaranteed. Sometimes two or three runs a night. That’s a hundred and twenty in a night, kid. I hear you’re washin’ dishes for change. You can do better than that.”

Dick swallowed. Jason might be sick. Tim wasn’t really ready for his first winter on the streets. The kind of money Rick was talking about might even get them a hotel room every once in a while. It was Rick’s eyes that stopped him. They were cold, calculating, and reminded Dick of some of the businessmen that hung around Haley’s sometimes, like everyone was a dollar sign and ready to be spent. He shook his head again. “No. I’m not working for you.”

Rick stepped closer. “One twenty in a night. Falcone is the biggest boss around Gotham. You can move up. Opportunities, see?”

Falcone’s name lit up in Dick’s brain like a neon sign outside a club. A gangster’s club. Like Zucco. Gangsters. Dick seethed and stepped back. “I don’t work for gangsters. Ever,” he said, and he stormed off.

Rick’s voice rang out behind him, “You’ll wish you hadn’t said no, Grayson. It’s a one-time fucking offer you dumb kid!”

Dick kept walking. When he got to the playground he jumped onto the bars and swung with a force that hadn’t coursed through his body in a long time. He flipped. He climbed. He tried tricks he’d been thinking about but hadn’t ever tried before, like a drop down through the monkey bars and a grab and swing over to the uneven bars from there. He was lucky he didn’t smash his chin, but he made it, swinging in a circle around the bar and doing a triple flip off for the landing. The impact vibrated his bones and he crouched down and hugged his knees.

He could hear his father’s voice in his memory, with his light Romani accent, “Good spin, son! Try it again so you don’t forget what it feels like!”

Dick gripped his hair as the October wind suddenly whipped up and blew the scent of smog and grease into the park and a chill right through Dick’s thin sweatshirt against his skin. “I don’t want to do it again,” he muttered into his knees. He was cold and tired, and no one cared if he could do a triple flip landing anymore.

“Dick! Dick! That was amazing!” Tim’s voice called.

Dick raised his head and quickly wiped his tears as Tim ran toward him and Jason trailed behind with a wide grin.

“Yeah!” Jason laughed. “Do it again!”

Dick blinked as Jason’s laughter rang through the air. He stood up and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno,” he said.

Tim pressed his hands together like he was praying. “Pleeeeassee!” he drawled. “You did a triple flip landing! I’ve never seen you do that here before!” Tim folded his hands into Dick’s sweatshirt and bounced. His little black bun bounced, too, and Jason was jumping behind him with his dark curls bouncing.

A laugh escaped despite his mood, and he put his hands under Tim’s arms and lifted him into a silly spin. Jason whooped, and Dick set Tim down with a flourish. “Okay, munchkins. Watch and learn!” He did a backflip on the way to the monkey bars and climbed quickly to the top. When he avoided his chin and stuck the landing again a few seconds later, both boys clapped and screamed in delight. Dick’s tears were long gone.

November came, and it was Dick’s second birthday without his parents. Now he was a tall, sixteen-looking fourteen-year-old. His voice had dropped over the summer, and he had to buy a razor in August. When Jason plunked a package of M&Ms in his lap one night and leaned into his shoulder on the floor of the warehouse, Dick had to blink away tears again.

“Happy Birthday, Dickler,” Jason said, and Tim set a piece of paper in his lap. It was a paper printout of a photo, the three boys in a selfie that Dick recalled posing for about a week ago.

“Happy Birthday, Dick!” Tim said, and leaned into Dick’s other side. Under the picture Tim had written, ‘Thanks for taking care of me!” and had drawn a little smiley face.

“How did you print this?” He asked.

Tim shrugged. “I convinced the librarian it was for a school project.”

As he stared at the picture and ate a few M&Ms a few minutes later, it hit him. He snapped his head up and pointed at Jason. “Hey,” he practically shouted. “I don’t know your birthday! This is my second one with you and you never told me when yours is! Tim, I don’t know yours, either!”

Tim and Jason shared a look and both of them shrugged.

“July,” Tim said.

“August, I think,” Jason added.

A wave of sadness rolled over Dick, and he pulled both boys close. “I missed them. I’m sorry.”

Jason poked Dick in the side to get him off of him. “Stop being sad, Dickton. I don’t even remember the right date for mine.”

“Yeah, Dick,” Tim said. “It’s okay. I had only just joined up with you guys. It’s not a big deal.”

Dick hugged them both again. That night he folded the paper up and carefully put it in his jeans pocket.

Jason woke them all up the next morning with his cough, and when Dick and Tim got up Jason slept on.

Tim pulled his knees close and his blanket a little tighter. “He gets sick a lot,” he whispered.

Dick nodded. “Yeah. He’s been living out here too long.” He sighed. “Stay here with him, Tim, okay? I’m gonna go see if I can work today.”

He couldn’t get anyone to give him work, but he had a little money left over from yesterday, so he stopped at the corner store for Tylenol and some bananas and apple juices for all of them. When he got back to the warehouse, Tim was writing in a notebook and Jason was lying against the wall staring at the ceiling. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were glassy with fever. Dick pressed a bottle of juice in his hands and dumped a couple Tylenol into his hand. Soon after, Jason went back to sleep and Tim and Dick played cards most of the afternoon.

A few days later and Jason’s fever was gone. Dick had found work just one of those days, and all three of them were hungry and tired. Dick watched Tim doze early in the evening, and when he woke a little later, Dick sighed. “This is dangerous for you, Tim. Have you considered going home for the winter? I know you don’t want to, but wouldn’t it be better than this?”

Tim frowned and crossed his arms. “I’m not leaving you two, and no. It’s horrible there. You know that.”

Dick closed his eyes as his stomach growled. “I know. I just wish we all had a safe place to stay.”

Jason kicked at the dirt of the warehouse floor. “You’ll get work tomorrow and we’ll go begging again. We can probably get a couple more blankets later this week. It’s safe enough.”

Dick was too tired and hungry to argue, so he went to sleep. The next day he couldn’t get any work again. Jason and Tim tried panhandling and only managed ten dollars. They stopped at the corner store that night and got apples, juice, and a few bags of chips. The next few days were worse. Dick couldn’t get work, and when Tim came back alone from panhandling for nothing, he slid on to their park bench with a sigh. The day was gray and windy, and they hadn’t had a real meal for three days, just a few pieces of fruit and some drinks.

“Where’s Jason?” Dick asked.

Tim shrugged and pulled out a magazine he’d found yesterday. “I don’t know. He told me to come back here and that he’d be back later.”

Dick worried his lower lip and hugged himself tight when Jason wasn’t back an hour later. It was starting to get dark, and the temperature was dropping for the night. One of the cops that patrolled the park came into view. “We should go back to the warehouse. Come on, Tim.” They both hopped down from the bench and headed out of the park. Dick checked side streets and sidewalk steps as they went, but Jason didn’t appear. They climbed in through the broken window they always used and dug their blankets out of the crate they hid them in for the day. They huddled down together, and Dick wrapped another blanket around both of them.

Tim’s stomach growled.

Dick closed his eyes and whispered, “You should be home and in school and fed, Tim. This isn’t right.”

Tim burrowed against Dick. “No, Dick. I could never leave you and Jason behind. Never.”

Dick tried to imagine Tim disappearing and leaving them alone for good. It made his throat tighten and he couldn’t help pulling Tim closer. “Okay, Tim.”

A crash from the window startled them both and Dick sat bolt upright. “Hello?” he called.

“Shit. It’s me, Dickens, hang on.”

Dick sagged against Tim in relief. “Jason, where were you? It’s been hours.”

Jason’s cough led him into view, and Dick was about to scold him when Jason thrust a bag out. “Here, eat. I got subs for all of us.”

Dick blinked as Tim reached out and grabbed the bag.

“Hey, thanks, Jason!” he said as he dug into it and pulled a sandwich out.

Jason nodded and pulled another blanket out, and yawned. “There’re drinks, too.”

“Where’d you get the money, Jay?”

Jason tensed. “I got about forty left. Enough for tomorrow and the next day, probably.”

“Where’d you get it,” Dick asked, and maybe he was breaking their unspoken agreement, but it was late at night and Jason was shivering and coughing again.

Jason glared and shoved his blanket away. “I pulled two tires. Miguel showed me how. I was careful, Dick.”

“Pulled two tires,” Dick parroted. Stealing wasn’t right, but more importantly, “You know they’ll throw you in juvie the second you get caught, Jason. They’ll take you from us!”

“Yeah, and we’ll die if we don’t eat, and I don’t want to go to a shelter and end up split anyway when they send you and me to a foster family and Tim back to his fucking parents!”

“I don’t want to go home,” Tim said quietly. “Stealing, though. That’s not right either.”

“I’m just trying to get us through! You can’t work – I swear someone got word out that you’re too young and they’re scared of the cops – Tim and I can’t beg enough to make up for that no matter how nice folks are some days. I know what I’m doing with the cars, Dick. I read up on them in the library and Miguel’s been taking me around the shop when I’m bored. I know how to do it quick! The guys at the shop said I’m a natural!”

“You’re eleven!” Dick shouts. “You’re eleven and they’ll throw you in jail until you’re eighteen!”

“Not if I don’t get caught!”

“I don’t want you to do this, Jason!” Dick was desperate. They had to stick together, and they couldn’t rely on stealing. The more Jason stole, the more chances of getting caught. Dick couldn’t imagine being out here without Jason now. “Stop stealing!”

“You’re not my goddamned father! You’re just a kid and you can’t tell me what to fucking do!” Jason yelled, and he turned on his heel and threw the blanket down before he stormed off and scrambled out the window into the night.

Dick stood staring at the window and breathing hard. Tears sprang to his eyes and he sat down, pulling a blanket around his shoulders. He hung his head and tried to get his breathing under control.

Tim scooted closer and put his head on Dick’s shoulder. “He’ll come back, Dick. He just needs to cool off.”

Dick tried to wait up to make sure Tim was right, but the blankets and Tim warmed him up and he fell asleep, worry about Jason slipping into his dreams and making him toss and turn through the night. When he woke, he sat up and rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing things right.

Jason had, in fact, come back just like Tim said he would, only there was another little boy curled up against him sound asleep.

Tim’s sleepy voice whispered in Dick’s ear, “Dick? Who’s that with Jason? He looks really little.”


	9. In the Company of Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason finds Damian, and his story is horrifying. He clearly needs a family to look out for him, although convincing him of that might be tricky. No matter. They'll manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we have all of the boys! I purposefully shrunk the age gap between all of them to make this story work.

After yelling at Dick, Jason ran into the cold night, but he had to stop and collapse coughing onto the steps of a run-down apartment building before he got very far. Coughs wracked his body until they finally tapered off and he sat panting into his sweatshirt sleeve. Maybe he was sick. He was so mad at Dick for yelling at him that he’d almost exploded, and he’d had to get out of there. They needed money. Jason had gotten money. Dick was living a pipe dream if he figured they could survive another winter, now with three of them, without a little bit of petty theft. He sat back on the cement steps and pulled his knees close to keep the icy air from soaking into every bit of open skin.

He was planning on staying there long enough to make a point to Dick and then heading back, but an odd voice rang out from the nearby alley. Here at almost midnight a child’s voice rang out – a young child with an odd accent and a _lot_ of anger. Jason stood. When he got close to the corner he slowed and snuck forward to get a good look.

Four grown men, all dressed in dark jeans and leather jackets and holding varying lengths of metal pipes, had a small dark-haired boy cornered in the alley. The boy had a long-bladed knife in his left hand, and he was leaning forward and snarling, “You are making a series of very bad choices.

One of the men laughed and stepped forward. “If you don’t come with us, you little bastard, you’re gonna regret that choice forever.”

Well, fuck. This little kid didn’t flinch one bit, and Jason was so stunned that he stopped paying attention to where he was and kept moving forward, into the alley.

One of the men turned to him. “You want in on this, too, punk?” he asked, and Jason would have come up with something smart-assed to say except that the boy with the knife moved at the distraction, and, before Jason could even blink, he’d thrown the knife into the knee of the man closest to him. The man screamed, dropped his pipe, and fell to the ground, writhing in agony. The little boy pulled another knife from somewhere, and while Jason leapt at the slack-jawed guy who’d spoken to him, he buried the second knife above the knee of the next closest man. As the third guy screamed and ran at the little kid, Jason kicked the guy facing him in the balls and then kicked the pipe out of his hands. The boy had pulled his first knife from the leg of his victim and flung it at the man rushing him. It buried itself in his groin and he fell, too.

Jason grabbed the pipe on the ground near him and swung at the guy he’d kicked. The crack of pipe against cheekbone rang through the empty night air. Jason rushed past the little kid and hollered, “Come on, kid!” as he climbed onto a dumpster and jumped onto the nearby fire escape. The little boy snagged his knife from the writhing man and followed Jason up. A couple minutes later and Jason was pulling the boy over the ledge of the roof and staring down past him. “Did you kill them?” he asked, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. This kid was shorter than Tim and his delicate face suggested he was younger, too.

The boy crossed his arms and frowned down at the men shouting in pain below. “Of course not. I don’t kill unless I have to. That’s why mother left me here in the first place.”

Jason stepped away from the edge of the roof and stalked to the other side. “Well, come on. It’s not much of a jump and we need to get out of here before the GCPD show up.” He stepped back a few paces and then ran and launched himself across the gap over to the next building. When he landed, he turned and held out his hand. “I’ll snag you if you need it,” he called.

The boy rolled his shoulders and ran. He didn’t need help sticking the landing. When he rolled to his feet, he double checked the two knives were still in his pockets and turned to Jason, who was stifling a cough into his sleeve.

“While I don’t think I needed it, thank you for your help.”

“Where are your parents?” Jason asked as he wiped his mouth.

The boy frowned and stared at the ground before he raised his chin and met Jason’s eyes. “My mother was not satisfied with me and told me I could survive in this city. Since I just faced down four grown men, I believe she was right.”

Jason blinked. He must have heard something wrong. The kid’s accent was a bit odd. “Wait. You’re saying that your mom dumped you in Gotham? That’s awful, little dude. What about your dad? Did he approve of dumping you here?”

The boy sucked in a deep breath. “First, my name is Damian, not ‘little dude.’ Second, I don’t know anything about my father except that he’s from this disgustingly foul-smelling city. I did not satisfy my mother. She got rid of me, as is her prerogative.

Jason glared at the kid for a moment before he sighed and turned to look for a way down. “That’s all messed up and I don’t get it, Damian, but whatever. Do you have a place to stay tonight?” he asked as he climbed over the ledge onto the fire escape.

Damian, who at least had a winter coat on, one that might have been the warmest coat Jason had ever seen, climbed down behind Jason. “Why would you offer to help me? What do you want?”

“Do you have any money?” Jason asked as he jumped to the ground.

Damian frowned. “My mother said that I would have to find my own way.”

“Your mom sounds like a piece of work, Damian,” Jason said, leading Damian out of the alley and toward the warehouse.

“Wait!” Damian called, and Jason stopped. “Who are you and why should I come with you?”

Jason fought through a cough and said, “I’m Jason Todd and I’m really tired. I have two brothers and we all look out for each other. We at least stay somewhere dry and out of the wind. You can come sleep and meet them.”

Damian hesitated. “May I keep my knives?”

Jason laughed. “I’m hoping you will, Little D.”

“My name is Damian, you imbecile.”

Jason couldn’t help his grin. This kid was maybe four feet tall and bundled in a winter coat thick enough to make him look like a marshmallow. Of course, he also had knives and knew how to use them, despite the coat. Jason held up his hands. “Okay. Sorry, Damian.” He led the way back to the warehouse, but Dick and Tim were already asleep. He guided Damian to the spot he usually curled up, near a couple of crates. “Let’s just go to sleep. You can meet them in the morning.”

Damian inspected the area and then settled down on the ground. “It’s unlikely I will sleep, but I will rest.”

Jason laid down next to him. Maybe if the kid didn’t mind, Jason could press against the warm-looking coat. He stifled a cough and then whispered, “Just try to sleep. We’ll take care of you.”

Damian might’ve muttered, “I don’t need taking care of,” but Jason wasn’t sure, and then he was asleep.

He woke to voices trying to be quiet but not doing a very good job of it.

“You’re safe here with us little dude,” Dick whispered. “We won’t hurt you.”

“Why do you all keep insisting on calling me ‘little dude’? My name is Damian.”

“We didn’t know that, Damian, but be quiet for now and let Jason rest.” Tim hissed.

“It’s well past six in the morning,” Damian replied, louder than a whisper.

Jason yawned. “I’m awake, sheesh. Can’t sleep with all this racket anyway,” he said, sitting up and stretching. The stretch turned into a deep, phlegmy cough. Dick was by his side in a second, rubbing circles on his back. “Damian,” Jason croaked out, and pointed at Dick. “This is Dickie and that’s Timmy.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m Tim and that’s Dick.”

“Hey,” Dick said, with a forced brightness. “How about we take some of that money you made yesterday and go someplace warm for a good breakfast?”

“Oh, so now you’re okay with the money?” Jason snapped.

“It wasn’t the money. It was how you got it,” Dick replied. “And you need to warm up and eat something good.”

Damian stood up and Jason resisted the urge to ruffle his hair like Dick did with him sometimes. This kid was wound tighter than a tightrope, and he stood differently than any kid Jason had ever run across. It was like he was trying to be taller, and he was trying to look stronger, like he was challenging you just by being in front of you.

“We should wash up, too,” Tim said as he rolled up his blanket and shoved into the crate they were using for their stuff.

It wasn’t time to do their meager one-load of laundry yet, but Tim was right, especially since Jason and Damian had spent last night fighting. They all trudged to their favorite diner and took turns washing their faces and under their arms in the bathroom sink before settling into a booth. Dick pulled Damian in next to him and Jason and Tim sat across from them. Jason sipped ice water from the plastic cup the waiter set in front of him and tried to ignore the tickling sore throat threatening to flare up.

“So why are you here, Damian?” Tim asked around a gulp of coffee. Jason didn’t like coffee, but Tim thought it made him more mature and said it ‘made his skin buzz in a good way.’ That was a bad reason to drink it to Jason, but whatever. Tim liked coffee.

Jason recounted their fight in the alley last night and couldn’t help his overexcited, “You should have seen him with his knives!”

Dick frowned. “How old are you?”

“I’m seven years old,” Damian replied.

“You have an odd accent,” Tim stated.

Damian sat up straighter in the booth. “I was taught Arabic first, and then the last four years I’ve been bilingual. I grew up in Egypt.”

Damian was officially the weirdest kid Jason had ever met. “Your mom brought you all the way from Egypt to dump you on the streets of Gotham?”

“She said it was the worst city on the planet. She was angry with me.” He paused to take a drink of apple juice and Jason had to hide a snicker at the way he used the corner of his napkin to wipe his lip off afterward. “My father is from here, and I wonder if she thought, perhaps, I would stumble across him.”

“What’s his name?” Tim asked.

Damian stared at his plate. “I don’t know. She never told me his name.”

They were all silent for a moment, probably in horror of a parent who would deliberately abandon their kid. Jason hated Willis Todd with every fiber of his body, but at least he knew who the guy was.

“Well, you can stay with us,” Dick said around a mouthful of pancakes.

Damian just chewed on a piece of toast and didn’t say anything.

When Jason only made it through one pancake and a glass of apple juice before his appetite disappeared, Dick glared at him like it was his fault. When Jason tried to say something snappy at the glare, he just coughed.

“We should take you to the clinic,” Dick said.

“I’m okay, Dickheart. I just need to go to the library and sleep on a beanbag for a while. Tim can come with and cover for me in case a librarian gets too close.” He needed a distraction here. “Hey Damian, you want my pancakes?”

Damian shrugged. “I do not know what they are.”

Tim choked on a bite of bacon. “You’ve never had pancakes?”

“I just implied that.”

Dick laughed. “Well, they’re very good, and they’re vegetarian.”

Tim hummed. “Not sure what they cook them in here, hang on.” He jumped up and went to find a waiter. He slid back into the booth a minute later. “Butter. You can have them.”

Jason hadn’t said anything when Damian declared that he didn’t eat meat, but this was puzzling him. “What could make them not vegetarian?”

Tim pointed at his own plate. “Bacon grease or something like that. I had a cook once who insisted on using bacon grease for almost anything she cooked in a skillet. My mom put an end to that when she found out, but it was delicious while it lasted.”

Damian cocked his head at Tim and asked, “Why are you sleeping in a warehouse if you had a home with a mother and a cook?”

Jason answered for him because Tim suddenly clammed up and picked at his food. “His parents are douchebags who abused and neglected him. He’s better off with us.”

Dick leaned into Damian, who scooted away. “Like you’re gonna be, Damian. It’s good you found Jason.”

“Hey,” Jason protested. “I found him. And I helped him.”

“I didn’t need your help with the fight, Todd, but the sleeping arrangements were helpful.”

Dick frowned. “Why were you fighting again?”

“It was one of the trafficking groups, I’ll bet,” Jason said. “They wanted him ‘cause he’s little, and they cornered him in the alley across from the park. I managed to distract one of the guys, but he did handle most of them. I took him to the roof to get away.”

“Always go high,” Tim agreed.

“Like Batman,” Jason said as dramatically as he could, but when he tried the Batman voice all it did was make him cough again. This sucked. It was as if exhaustion had drenched his bones, and the cough just didn’t want to stop.

“Clinic,” Dick ordered once everyone had finished their food. “Then you can go sleep at the library.”

“We can’t all go to the clinic,” Tim said. “How about I take Damian to the library and we meet you there?”

Jason followed Dick after they all agreed to meet up afterwards, and when they got to the clinic he slouched in a hard, green plastic chair as Dick filled out the scant paperwork Dr. Leslie demanded. Names and birthdays and stuff like that is all she asked for, thankfully. Jason made up a day and Dick forged the rest. Jason fell asleep in the waiting room until Dick gently nudged him awake.

“Hey Jay, wake up. Doc’s ready for you,” he said, and he pulled Jason to his feet. “Want me to carry you?”

Jason frowned and shoved at Dick. “I’m fine. You don’t have to carry me.”

They followed the clinic nurse back to a room where she took Jason’s temperature, listened to his lungs, and took his blood pressure. After a few minutes, Dr. Leslie came in. She was a little disheveled, but she was smiling.

“Hello, boys. It’s been a while since I’ve seen either of you.”

Dick said, “Hello, Doctor Leslie,” and Jason answered by coughing wetly into his sleeve.

She frowned. “That doesn’t sound good, kiddo. Let’s have a listen.” She listened to Jason’s lungs even more intently than the nurse had, and when she rolled back on her chair and crossed her arms, Jason’s pulse picked up in fear. “Your parents still couldn’t come in with you?” she said to Dick.

He shook his head and the sadness on his face was very real.

She nodded. “Okay. I don’t think it’s pneumonia, thank goodness, but it is a pretty nasty case of bronchitis, and you need some rest and medicine, okay?” she said to Jason.

He swallowed hard because he hated this part. “Is the medicine expensive?” he asked without meeting her gaze.

She was quiet for a moment, and then said, “No. I can get it for you for free if that’s what you need. There’s a pharmacy around the corner and I’ll call it in and take care of the payment here. We have an agreement with them.” She turned to Dick and took a deep breath. “Do you need me to call anyone on behalf of your family? Do you think your parents need some help?”

A muscle in Dick’s jaw clenched. “No, ma’am. We’re all right, but we just can’t afford any extras right now. I’m sorry.”

Dr. Leslie smiled. “It’s okay, Dick. I understand. That’s why I’m here, okay? Now both of you pick a lollipop and I’ll call in the prescription.”

Jason took the root beer lollipop Dick handed him and they sat silently in the room waiting for Dr. Leslie to come back. The silence was heavy, and Jason fell asleep again, leaning against the wall. He woke up a little when he heard Dr. Leslie telling Dick about the medicine, and then Dick was pulling Jason into his arms and lifting him to rest against his shoulder. He wanted to protest, but he was so tired that he just nuzzled a bit to get comfortable.

“He seems really sick,” Dick said as he adjusted Jason against his body.

“Rest and medicine, and he’ll be all right, but make sure you finish the medicine, Dick.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dick said, and they were moving out of the room and back to the lobby. A moment later, someone brushed against him, hard, jostling him out of Dick’s arms.

“I’m sorry, son,” A deep voice said, and Jason blinked his eyes open. A tall man with black hair and a black collared coat with a gold scarf stepped away and held his hands up with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t mean to disturb your rest.”

Jason climbed back into Dick’s embrace with a shrug and a tired, “It’s okay, mister,” and Dick readjusted.

“Come on back, Bruce,” Dr. Leslie said as Dick and Jason left the lobby and headed for the pharmacy.

When they finally got back to the library, Tim and Damian were standing outside on the wide, concrete steps, each with their hands on their hips and glaring at each other. Jason craned his neck and when he saw the frown on Dick’s face, he climbed down. A cough snuck up on him as Dick said, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Tim said, his voice full of exasperation, “This moron thinks that he’s going to just waltz out and nab Tony Zucco for you, Dick. I’m keeping him here so you can talk him down from being an idiot.”

Damian straightened to his full height like he was a peacock who just noticed an observer. “I am not an idiot. I am excellent with knives and strategy. I can do this for you. You helped me, after all.”

Jason protested, “What did Dixit do for you? I helped you last night!”

Damian ignored him and walked up to Dick. “If you know where this gangster is, we can capture him. I know it.”

Dick blinked at Damian and then heaved a sigh and wilted down to the steps. He beckoned Damian over and pulls him against his side.

Jason and Tim settled in on the other side.

“Damian, we’re not going to capture Zucco. That was two years ago and I’ve put it behind me.”

Damian pushed back from Dick. “One doesn’t put something like that behind you. Revenge is an acceptable goal at any time.” He pulled out one of his knives and brandished it under Dick’s chin. “I can do this.”

“I don’t want you to, Damian! I don’t care anymore! We need to get inside where it’s warm and Jason can sleep for a while. That’s all that’s important now. Staying safe and warm when we can.” He stood up. “Put your knife away. No matter what Tim told you, I’m done with all that. Come on, Jason. Doc said you need to sleep.”

Jason followed Dick inside and Tim and Damian followed.

“He’s a fool,” Damian muttered.

“He’s kind,” Tim retorted.

Jason found a green beanbag in a corner and Dick sat down next to him, leaned against the wall and gave him his first dose of medicine.

Tim knelt in front of Dick. “I can stay with Jason if you want to take Damian and show him around our territory. Might be good to walk around a bit, Dick.”

Jason closed his eyes and sleep dragged him under before he could hear what Dick said in reply. When he woke, it was time to leave the library and head for the warehouse. Dick carried him the whole way.


	10. Reason to Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Jason hatch a plan to help Dick find work. Damian has to step in, but they can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know many are waiting for a good Dick and Damian bit, and it's coming, but I have to ask for your patience. Thanks to everyone sticking with this story - I hope it's still fun!

Tim flipped through the magazine Dick brought him from the diner backroom and half-listened for Jason to wake up. He pulled the fleece blanket closer around his shoulders as a gust of wind whined outside. The article about a new movie coming out based on one of Tim’s favorite books was annoyingly short, but he killed a little time trying to make a list in his head of all the details he could glean about what they might’ve changed from book to screen. Not that he’d get to see it. Jason had never been to a movie theater, Dick had only ever been to a drive-in, and Damian said that movies were capitalistic propaganda. He might not have been wrong, but that didn’t make Tim want to knock him off of his high horse any less.

Jason stirred at Tim’s feet, so Tim shoved the magazine back in his backpack and leaned forward. “Hey Jason, how are you feeling?”

Jason blinked and sat up, hunching under his blanket. “m cold,” he grumbled, and then a cough ripped through his chest again and he pressed his face into his knees. “This sucks.”

Tim nodded and rooted in his backpack. “Dick said to give you your medicine when you woke up, and an apple juice.” He pulled both out and handed them to Jason.

“Where is he?” Jason mumbled

“He and Damian went over to the playground. Damian was getting antsy. Dick was hoping to run him a little before he tries to find a place to wash dishes or do deliveries again later today.”

“He’s dreaming. Those assholes from Falcone’s crew told a bunch of people he wasn’t old enough.”

“Yeah, but what do they know?” Tim said. “If I could get some supplies, I could make him an ID. I was working on one for me before I left my house.” He was, but things had gotten unbearable and he’d left sooner than he’d expected

Jason laughed. “You were gonna try and convince people you were sixteen? You’re too short, Timbo. Nobody’d buy it.”

“They buy anything if it’s on an official-looking ID,” Tim replied.

Jason swallowed his meds and took a long swig of juice. “Well, what would you need?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tim said. “We couldn’t get it anyway. Not the kind of supplies that would make it look official.”

Jason scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I could maybe swing it. Depending on what it is. Miguel’s cousin’s shop has some equipment, you know. I dunno what you need, though.” He coughed into his sleeve.

“Well, I need an old ID, and then a current photo of Dick, although we could probably get that at a drugstore if we had enough money. Then plastic to laminate it after I adjusted the info. I could probably print out the ID at the library, but laminating it might be tough.”

Jason stood and stretched. “I could ask around. Miguel might even know someone who does fake IDs. His brothers and cousins are pretty shady. Just depends on whether we’d owe someone something for it.”

Tim had definitely picked that much up over the last few months, the bartering that happened between the other kids on the streets. Tim had Dick and Jason, but sometimes another kid would ask them for something and always offer to trade something. Trade seemed important, and Jason always talked about pulling his weight with Dick, like it was a matter of honor or something. “How do we find out?” Tim asked. “It would let Dick get a steady job, you know, if he had an ID.”

Jason pulled his hood up. “I’d have to ask around. I can go while Dick’s trying to work today. You and Damian could go see if there’s any cans to collect since that new recycle place opened over near the docks.”

Jason was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes, and he had trouble finishing the apple juice. Tim said, “Dick wants you to drink all of it,” and Jason glared. He finished it, though.

“You’re supposed to be resting today,” Tim added. “Damian and I can collect cans for a while, and I can look around for some of the other supplies.”

“Nope,” Jason said. “I’m going to go crazy if I have to lay here all day, and I’ll probably freeze. Plus, if you try and lift someone’s ID you’re gonna get caught and Dick would apparently die if one of us got caught by the cops.”

Tim frowned. This wasn’t part of the plan. “Neither of us should lift anything. I bet we can find one someone lost, especially over by the liquor store. Also, you can move to the library to rest.”

Jason fiddled with the lid on his bottle. “No, I slept there yesterday. They’ll get nosy if I sleep there every day while I’m sick. I’ll go see Miguel and then come back here and rest. It’ll be fine.

“What’ll be fine?” Dick called as he and Damain climbed through the window. “Hey, Jason! Glad you’re awake!”

Tim could tell Dick what they were planning, but Jason was giving him the stink-eye like he’d pound him if he told, and he was probably right to keep Dick out of the loop at least until they needed his picture. “Jason was just saying he didn’t want to stay here all day because it’s cold, but the librarians might get suspicious.”

“Well,” Dick said as they all moved to fold blankets and put them away. “Maybe a walk or something, but you need to sleep some more before bed. Doc said you needed rest. Oh, did you take your medicine?”

“Yes, mom,” Jason sighed. “I just don’t want to lay here all day. You’re gonna go see about work?”

“Yeah,” Dick said. “That place over near the Bowery still lets me work sometimes.”

“Okay,” Tim said. “Jason and Damian and I can go collect some cans and bottles while you do that, then Jason and Damian can rest while I turn them in.”

“I do not require rest,” Damian protested.

Tim bit his lip. Damian had to argue with everything. “Then you can guard Jason while he sleeps.”

Damian nodded gravely. “I can do that.”

Dick clapped his hands together. “Done! I’ll go work, you guys go collecting, and Jason rests. Oh yeah,” he said, and pulled something out of his pocket. “Here’s a couple packs of peanut butter crackers. Share them before you go out.”

Tim took them from Dick, and they all waved as he left. Tim divvied them up and tried to ignore the way they only sort of filled him up. That sort-of full feeling was how it always was out here, and he had to ignore the memories of rifling through the full pantry at home - bags of nuts, boxes of crackers, and a fridge with three kinds of cheeses and some fruit that would fill his plate before he traipsed back up to his bedroom to lay on his bed and eat. Sometimes he figured he’d been insane when he hopped the bus into Gotham that night, but then his anger and pure fear of his father would burn through his stomach and feeling a little hungry was a good trade-off for not dealing with Jack and Janet Drake anymore. 

“Okay,” Jason said as he brushed crumbs from his shirt. “He’s gone. You guys go collecting and I’ll meet you back here.”

Damian swung his head between Jason and Tim. “What is this? I thought we were all going rooting around for tin cans.”

Jason laughed. “You make it sound like we’re a bunch of pigs!”

Damian shrugged. “Well,” he started.

“Shut up, Damian,” Tim muttered. They really shouldn’t give the kid any ammunition for why Gotham was the most horrible place on the planet. It was easy enough to come by without handing it to him, after all. “We’re going to collect cans and Jason’s going to go check on something for us. We’re trying to get it so Dick can work without hassle, and more consistently.”

“If we could save up some cash,” Jason said wistfully

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tim replied. These last few months taught him that planning anything more than a few days out was just a pipe dream anyway. His stomach rumbled again. “Come on, Dames,” he said. “Let’s go find a bag.”

Damian glared at both of them and then followed Tim out of the warehouse. A few blocks later, Damian grumbled as he picked up a half-empty soda can and dumped it out before putting it in the garbage bag they’d found. “Gotham is filthy,” he said. “I don’t know how you can stand the smell.”

“What was Egypt like?” Tim asked, “Were you in Cairo?

Damian was silent for a moment and then said, “Outside of Cairo. In the desert. Mother took me to Cairo a few times, though.

Damian hadn’t said much about his life before Gotham in the few days since Jason had found him. They didn’t want to quiz him, and he spent most of his time grumbling or asking questions about crime families. He asked a lot of questions about crime families. Tim found a whole pile of beer cans and loaded them into the bag. “Damian,” he said, “You said she was disappointed in you. I know how that goes. I don’t think you should listen to her. You speak two languages and you can fight. You’re clearly smart.”

Damian snorted. “I speak four languages and I don’t need you to tell me I’m smart. Smart had nothing to do with it. When I find my father, I’ll show him I can fight, and he’ll let me join him.”

Tim stood up and stared. “Join him? I thought you didn’t know who he was?”

“I don’t,” Damian replied. “She used to say he was a fighter, though, and if he’s a fighter in Gotham, he must be one of the crime lords. I’ll join him if I can figure out which one he is.”

Tim blinked. “That’s…… quite a leap, Damian. Just because he’s a fighter doesn’t mean he’s a crime lord. Maybe he’s got a fighting spirit. He could be a CEO or something. Or in charge of a nonprofit, or a school or something.”

Damian turned his back on Tim. “He’s not in charge of a nonprofit,” he sneered. “He’s an actual fighter, with guns and swords. When I would do well with my weapons, early on in my training, she would say, ‘Your father would be proud of the way you handle your sword,’ or ‘Your father would appreciate your cunning,’ and things like that. She stopped saying that when I started to refuse her wishes. She said, ‘Your father wouldn’t want a disobedient child,’ and things like that. He’s a real fighter, not a CEO.”

Tim took him at his word and steered them toward another alley closer to the docks to look for cans and bottles. They were working their way down the street when a boy Tim recognized as another street kid ran toward them, waving his arms.

He was breathless, but after a moment he panted, “You guys run with Todd, right?”

Tim glanced at Damian. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”

The boy pointed toward the docks. “He tangled with one of Maroni’s kids. He’s gonna get beat!

“Where?” Tim demanded. Dammit, Jason. He was such a trouble magnet.

The boy pointed. “Sullivant and Second.”

“Come on!” Tim called to Damian, and they took off running.

It was only a few blocks, but by the time they rounded the last corner, there was a small group of people circled around the fight. Tim and Damian pushed their way through to see Jason being pressed into the ground by a kid twice his size and at least Dick’s age. Jason’s arm was twisted behind his back and the kid had his knee in Jason’s back.

“Think you can lift my wallet you little piece of trash?” the guy growled as he leaned close to Jason’s ear. “I’m gonna break your fucking arm for that.”

Before Tim could even blink, Damian had moved and had a knife pressed against the guy’s ear. “Let him go,” Damian snarled. He pressed the blade tip against his skin.

The guy turned to Damian but kept his grip on Jason. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Compelling you to release him. Making you see reason,” Damian replied, unfazed. He pressed the tip again.

The guy yelped as the blade pierced his earlobe, and he leapt off of Jason and right at Damian with fire in his eyes. “You little shit!” He grabbed for Damian, but Damian was small and fast, and was clearly good at what he was doing. He ducked under the guy’s arm and swept the blade up and out, slicing the guy’s arm in an instant. Tim reached down and pulled Jason to his feet. The crowd was whooping and cheering, but Tim was more concerned with getting out of there.

Damian ducked under another lunge from the guy and this time sliced his leg, and a clean tear showed up on the guy’s jeans. Damian clearly wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he was succeeding in making him mad, for sure. Tim grabbed Damian’s collar and pulled him away. “Come on!” he called, and the three boys ran.

After they ran for a few blocks, Tim turned to see if they were being followed, but the coast was clear. He slowed down and the other boys slowed with him. Jason bent over coughing and Damian had already sheathed his knife and stepped back from both boys, wary.

“Damian, are you okay?” Tim asked, stepping toward him.

Damian stepped back. “I’m fine. Todd. Are you all right?”

Jason was still bent over, but he shot a thumbs-up at Damian. “I will be, thanks little D,” he gasped around a phlegmy cough

Tim led them to a step and pushed Jason down. When Jason lifted his head, Tim cursed. “Dammit, Jason, you’re going to get yourself killed around here.” Jason’s left eye was blackened and closed, and a purple bruise was blossoming on his chin. Anger rose in Tim’s chest. “You’re already sick and you go and get yourself caught and he would’ve broken your arm if we hadn’t come along and you know the doctor isn’t going to let Dick keep taking you in without parents and what the hell were you doing?”

Jason frowned and dug in his pocket, pulling something out and waving it in Tim’s face. “Getting an ID that you might not have to tamper with much!”

“Oh my god, Jason,” Tim said, pressing his palms to his face. “He’s going to find you and kill you!”

“It’s not his, dumbass,” Jason said. “He was a decoy. I lifted another wallet and got away with it, but I didn’t want him to realize right away, so I lifted the asshole’s wallet right after.”

“You let yourself get caught?” Damian asked.

Jason shrugged. “I didn’t plan on getting pressed to the ground, but I’m not at the top of my game. Thanks for coming along, guys. I didn’t take anything else from the first guy’s wallet, so hopefully he’ll forget what I look like by the time he realizes it’s gone.”

Tim sat down next to Jason and leaned against his shoulder. One thing he loved about staying with Jason and Dick was how they didn’t mind when he touched them, like hugs and leans and back rubs. Dick was definitely a hugger, and Tim found that it was something he’d been missing his whole life. Now he craved it, so he threw his arm around Jason’s shoulder. “Jason, that was close,” he said. He took the ID from his hand and looked it over. “This is pretty good, though. Same hair color and eye color. Maybe I just need to swap out the name, which will look better than swapping the whole thing.”

“What’s the age?” Jason asked.

“Eighteen. Not too far off, and the photo at a glance could be Dick on a bad day.”

Jason coughed into his elbow again and pressed his eye gently. “Ugh. I feel like garbage. Thanks, though, Damian. That was amazing! You were badass.”

Damian shrugged and sat down next to Jason. He pulled his knees close to his chest and Tim was reminded again how little he was. “I was trained to fight. He was nothing.”

Jason pulled him against his side. “It wasn’t nothing. I don’t want another broken arm.” He yawned.

“You two should go back to the warehouse so Jason can rest. I’ll go to the library and try to print off Dick’s name in the right font and size, then we can worry about laminating. Maybe we can get away with just peeling this back and using tape. Dick can say it went through the wash too many times or something.”

“Do we have money for tonight?” Jason asked as he stood up.

“Hopefully Dick will get some,” Tim answered.

He didn’t. That night Jason had to swallow his medicine dry because Tim had to use the last of their cash for a box cutter and tape to work on Dick’s ID

Dick grinned at the boys, though, after he fussed over Jason’s face. “I’m lucky I found smart kids to hang with on the streets,” he said as Tim worked on the license. “I bet the ID will definitely help me get a job.”

It was an odd response, since Dick usually berated Jason every time he did something risky, but Tim would let the fake enthusiasm slide if it meant Jason could go to sleep and Dick could go looking for a job the next day. He pulled Damian to his side and draped a blanket over both of them. They tried to ignore their growling stomachs and after a while they all went to sleep.


	11. Running Scared, Laying Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is closing in and Dick begins to doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Part of this chapter deals with human trafficking, implied possibility of child prostitution. See notes at the end for details.

Sleep didn’t come easy for Dick anymore. After a few months living rough with Jason, it was as if all of his sleep was lighter, and he was quick to wake up at the slightest noise. It was helpful when they had to chase animals out of the warehouse or when they had to duck out themselves because adults were yelling about drugs or guns or money inside the warehouse and they didn’t want to get caught in any crossfire. That didn’t happen a lot, though, and most of the time sleeping like he was about to get kicked wasn’t helpful at all. He was tired all the time. Tonight, Jason’s coughs woke him easily and Tim’s own restless rustling as he slept kept Dick from falling back asleep. He finally sat up and pulled his knees close. When he saw that Damian was awake, too, he startled.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Are you okay, Damian?”

Damian didn’t answer. His eyes were glassy, and Dick scooted over to him and pressed his hand to his shoulder.

Damian blinked slowly and turned to Dick. “The time difference here is still keeping me from sleep,” he whispered back.

Dick ignored the tear-tracks on Damian’s face and nodded. He threw his arm around Damian’s shoulders and also ignored the way he stiffened before leaning into Dick. Dick rubbed circles on his arm and pulled him closer. “It might be easier to sleep if we talk a bit and try again.”

Damian didn’t answer, so Dick said, “What was the house you lived at in Egypt like? Was it pretty?”

Damian spoke quietly, his accent more pronounced in his whisper. “The desert is beautiful. The open space is so different from these cramped streets here. Even Cairo was closer to the open sky, it seemed. I lived – house isn’t really the right word.” He paused, like he was going to try and describe it, but then asked, “Were there animals at the circus?” he asked.

Dick smiled at the rush of memories the simple question brought. He could almost smell hay and dung instead of the smoggy, stale air of the warehouse. “Yes. My favorite was an elephant named Zitka, but there were also two tigers, a few horses, some dogs, chickens, and sometimes some cats around. Keeping the cats with us was a little tough, but one lady had gotten one as a kitten and that one stayed close enough to stay with us on the road. I was pestering my parents for a dog of my own, but it never happened.” He paused, his father’s tired, ‘maybe for your birthday, Dickie’ echoing in his memory. “Do you like animals, Damian?”

“Yes. They weren’t permitted at my home, but when we went into the city, I tried to find cats or dogs to play with.”

The way the kid talked about his home life made Dick’s skin crawl, and he already wanted to find Damian’s mother and yell for an hour. If they ever did find his dad, Dick was going to have a few choice words.

Jason coughed again, and Dick and Damian were silent for a while. Dick kept rubbing Damian’s arm, and after a while managed to press him to his lap and rubbed his back the way Dick’s mother used to do for him. “Do you like cats or dogs better?” Dick whispered.

After a moment, Damian answered in a sleepy voice, “How could you choose?”

Another moment, and Damian was asleep again, in Dick’s lap. Dick leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes and managed to doze off and on until morning.

The ID Tim and Jason managed to get him was a good try, but it didn’t work like a magic charm. As Jason rested and Tim and Damian either played on the playground or scrounged for cans and other things, Dick tried to find a steady job. He really was only fourteen, though, and when they asked about experience, he didn’t have any. One night, he and Jason sat and brainstormed fake job experience and he even tried lying, as much as it grated. But he didn’t have transportation, and all the places in the area just wanted temporary help on a day-to-day basis.

Jason took Damian out begging one day and they disappeared for hours. Dick and Tim wandered the streets picking up cans, and when they all met back at the park that night, Damian and Jason had fifty-three dollars between the two of them. Dick frowned. “You got all this from asking for handouts?” he asked.

Jason and Damian shared a glance. “Yeah,” Jason said. “People were generous today.”

Dick was exhausted. They all were, of course, because it seemed to be a constant state for being homeless, but the exhaustion filled his bones like lead today. He couldn’t help his, “Liar,” to Jason.

When Damian muttered, “I told you,” Dick covered his own ears with his arms.

“Jason,” he started, but Jason reached over and grabbed Dick’s arms, pulling them down so he could stare Dick in the face.

Jason’s green eyes flashed. “Shut. Up.” he snarled. “We haven’t had a good meal in days, you’re not having any luck with a job, Tim did what he could with the faking the legal stuff and it didn’t work. I’m fucking hungry, Dick. Damian is seven and Tim is nine. They need a good meal and maybe a new hat or gloves. This money is mine. Not yours. I’ll get it how I want.”

When Dick didn’t answer right away, Jason let go and backed up. “You think stealing a few things is the most horrible thing in the world.” He threw his arms out and gestured all around. “The system steals from all of us, Dick. It’s not our fault we can’t eat without risking getting tossed in a house with someone who beats us, makes us steal for them, or worse. It’s not my fault, and I can do something about it. Get the fuck over it.”

Dick shoved at Jason as white-hot anger flared through his body. “ _How_ many times do I have to tell you! It’s not the stealing, you idiot!” He shouted. “I don’t want you to get caught. I don’t want Damian or Tim to get caught! I don’t want any of us caught and separated. You’re all I have now, don’t you get it? This isn’t about right and wrong. It’s about sticking together.”

Tim stepped between them and pushed them apart. “Slow down, both of you,” he said. “Back up.”

They both backed away and Jason ran his hand down his face. “I’m tired, Dickie. We’re all hungry. Let’s go get something to eat, okay? Maybe stop at the thrift store so Timmy can get some new gloves.”

Damian moved close to Dick, so he reached out and tousled Damian’s hair. “You hungry, shrimp?”

Damian threw Dick’s hand off and marched away. “Food. Come on,” he called over his shoulder.

Jason tried to laugh, but it came out a little hollow. “He’s a charmer.” He met Dick’s eye and shrugged. “Come on, like he said.”

Tim was waiting on Dick and fell into step with him when Dick followed Jason and Damian down the street. “You’re both right, you know?” Tim said quietly.

Dick sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

He stopped asking where Jason got his money. It wasn’t a lot, and it wasn’t every day, so Dick just let it slide. He kept looking for a steady job, and he kept getting turned down. One afternoon near the end of November, he and Tim headed home after Dick had spent the day trying to work and Tim had spent the day between the library and scrounging. Tim had gotten a little taller in the last few months, but Dick could still rest his hand on his head as they walked. Of all the kids, Tim was the least likely to protest a hug or a touch, so Dick was free with them. It was the only way to get them in return, after all. He missed his mother’s hugs and his father’s strong hands in his hair or on his arm.

The day was crisp, and it was getting dark, that edge of night in Gotham where the smells from the restaurants and garbage bins got stronger and the night lights started to turn on and reveal that dingy Gotham nighttime haze. Dick and Tim turned the corner toward the park, when someone pressed behind him and reached around to pull him off his feet. Tim yelped as someone did the same to him. Dick struggled and tried to yell, but the man was big, and their calloused hand covered Dick’s mouth tightly. Dick’s feet went out from under him and suddenly he was being dragged into a side street.

“Boss!” the man holding Tim yelled, and two more men stepped out from a dark doorway. One was tall and slender, wearing a cheap grey suit and black tie, and the other man was shorter but built like a wrestler, wearing a tight blue jacket and jeans. The guy in the suit stepped close and held Dick’s chin like he was inspecting him, then he did the same to Tim. Dick struggled and got his feet back under him. When Tim tried to do the same thing, the guy in the blue jacket backhanded him across the face.

“Don’t fuck up his face, you moron,” the guy in the suit growled. “He’s pretty.”

The words hit Dick like a bullet and knocked the air out of his lungs. He gasped for air around the man’s hand and blinked away spots. They were going to sell them. They were going to force them to do things no one should be forced to do. A surge of adrenaline flooded Dick’s body. He twisted and went limp to try and startle his captor, and Tim did the same thing. Damian had actually started to teach the boys some self-defense moves over the last month, and Dick and Tim did their best to use them now.

The men holding the boys stumbled, and Dick threw an elbow and then kneed the guy holding him in the balls like Dami had said to do first. They were outnumbered, but both boys started yelling as soon as the hand was gone from their mouths. Dick rolled away from the man in the suit and grabbed for Tim’s arm, shoving him down the street. Tim stumbled, though, and the man in the blue jacket caught his ankle. Dick jumped and stomped on the guy’s wrist and they man cussed him out, but Tim scrambled away just as a new man turned the corner and stopped as he took in the scene with a frown.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked, and the man in the suit pulled his friend in the blue jacket up from the ground. The new man was tall and broad shouldered, and he had a police badge on his belt, which all of them seemed to see at the same time. The plainclothes officer pulled his gun, and the four men who’d tried to take Dick and Tim scrambled and backed away. There was something on the fire escape behind the cop, and Dick sucked in a sharp breath when it moved; it was the Batman.

Dick had to ignore him, though, because he had one goal now – run. He caught Tim’s eye and nodded, and they both made a break for it at the same time, barreling past the cop before he could look away from the men, and the boys didn’t look back. They ran all the way to the park and when Jason and Damian stood up from the park bench, Tim and Dick both called “Come on!” at the same time and they all left for the warehouse at a dead run.

When they crawled through the window and clambered for their spot, Dick pulled Tim close. “Are you okay?” he panted and pulled Tim’s chin up to inspect his face. The guy was strong and had clearly been wearing a ring that had cut Tim’s cheek in a jagged line, about an inch across his cheekbone. A bruise was already blooming on his cheek, purple and dark and blood dripped down, thick.

“I’m okay, Dick,” Tim replied, but he was shaking, and his voice cracked at the end.

“What the hell happened?” Jason asked as Damian rooted around in their things for a bottle of water. Dick tore a piece off of his t-shirt and pressed it to Tim’s cut as Damian went back to the window they used as an entrance, clearly keeping watch to make sure they weren’t followed.

Dick cleaned up Tim’s cheek as best he could, ran his hand through Tim’s hair and pulled him into a tight hug. They were both shaking, their brains racing through the worst-case scenario that could have just changed their lives forever. “They were going to sell us,” Dick mumbled into Tim’s hair, and Jason swore loudly.

“You’re safe,” Jason said, and he leaned against both of them, rubbing circles on their backs. “Damian, we’re safe, right?” he called.

“No one followed us,” Damian replied, and he came back and scooted close.

“Dickie, you’re safe,” Jason repeated.

Dick pulled in a deep, shaking breath and nodded. “Tim,” he started, and he the suit-guy appeared in his head, whispering ‘He’s pretty’ in a slimy, menacing voice. He pressed the rag against Tim’s cheek again.

They sat like that for a few minutes, and finally Damian sighed and said, “Drink something. You’ll feel better after.”

Dick pulled back and nodded. He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and took a long drink before offering it to Tim, who did the same. “Tim and I got jumped. A plainclothes cop wandered in at just the right time, though,” he said to Jason and Damian.

Jason stared at both of them for a moment and then sighed and sat back. “Well, I don’t usually say this sort of thing, but thank fuck for that cop.”

Dick laughed, and Tim took another drink and grinned.

“And thanks to Damian’s self-defense lessons we were ready to run when he showed up,” Tim said, reaching out to ruffle Damian’s hair.

Damian nodded. “Good. Good. We should do more of those. Clearly we need to be diligent.”

Jason pressed himself to Dick’s side. “Yeah. We should. Especially as winter comes, people get meaner, somehow.”

Dick nodded and blew out a deep breath. His body was finally calming down, and the adrenaline crash was annoying. He raised the water bottle again, but his hand shook so much that Jason finally pulled it out of his hands. Dick wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t think we’d have gotten away if that cop hadn’t showed up. Not both of us.”

“But we did,” Tim said softly, and Dick looked up at him. “We got away and it’s over and now we move on, okay?” His blue eyes were shining. “Besides, I think I saw Batman on the fire escape! He would have saved us.”

“What’s Batman?” Damian asked, coming back from the window. “That sounds ridiculous.”

Jason laughed. “It’s a dude in a bat-suit who fights crime. How’s that ridiculous?” he deadpanned.

“Hey, he’s amazing,” Tim said, sitting up straighter. “He fights crime with tech and he’s practically a ninja. Even the police use his help because he’s better than them. He would have saved us,” Tim repeated.

Damian didn’t answer, just turned back to the window, like he expected Batman to be staring in at them.

Dick tried to stop his trembling hands. “Okay,” he agreed. “We move on. Now what do we have for tonight?” he asked Jason and Damian.

Jason shrugged and said, “I can run over to the corner store. You guys should stay and calm down. I’ll get some band-aids and an ice pack for Timmling. Damian, you want to come with, or do you want to stay here?”

Dick couldn’t help his “Go with him, Dami.” Letting any of them wander off alone sounded like an awful idea at the moment.

Jason and Damian left with a wave, and Tim huddled closer to Dick. “How’s your face feel, Tim?” Dick asked, doing his own huddling. They were pressed close, and Tim hooked his arm under Dick’s and held tight.

“Hurts,” Tim said, “But I doubt it’s much to worry about.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “Dick, he said I was pretty. I,” he started, and then his voice caught, and he gripped Dick tighter.

“Timmy, we have to remember we’re safe. He said that, but that doesn’t mean we’re gonna get caught again. We just have to keep a better eye out. Stay away from grownups, okay? Wherever we are.” Dick rubbed Tim’s arm. “We’ll stick together and stay away from grownups.”

Tim nodded against him. “Okay. Okay,” he said, like he was trying to convince himself.

They sat quietly until Jason and Damian came back with band-aids, an ice pack, and more drinks. That night they all slept closer together, and when Tim woke in a panic, Dick was already awake, and he brushed his hand through Tim’s hair until he fell back into a restless sleep.

December hit and they all gathered plastic grocery bags and bought a few extra pairs of socks each. Damian’s shoes were suddenly too small, so they had to spend meal money to get him a pair of second-hand sneakers. They bought two sizes bigger to accommodate the socks and some more growth. When they woke shivering three nights in a row, Dick woke with Damian sprawled on top of him for warmth, and Jason and Tim were wrapped around each other.

He couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes as he tried to get back to sleep. It was already colder than Dick had ever been in Gotham before, and the boys were tired and run down. If they weren’t careful, one of them would get sick again, and if it was Jason, he might end up with something awful like pneumonia. Tears tracked down Dick’s face. He was so cold. He was tired. He was hungry and scared. Even though he was now fifteen, he still couldn’t find a steady enough job for them to even consider the cheap apartment complex Jason and Tim had found online a few weeks ago. They had to avoid dirtbags like the traffickers, too. The tears in his eyes fell.

“Dick?” Jason asked, as he sat up and rubbed sleep out of his eyes and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Tim stirred, too, and before Dick could get the tears to stop, all three of the younger boys were huddled around him. He sucked in a shaky breath. “I think we’re in trouble, guys. I think winter is going to be too hard this year. I’m worried.” He pulled Damian into his lap and wrapped his arms around him tightly. “We need a home. We need to go to school. We need to be safe.”

Tim picked at a thread on his pants leg and Jason rubbed his eyes.

“Dick,” Jason said. “We’d get separated if we turned ourselves in. Tim would get sent back to his parents. We’d never see each other again.”

Tim nodded. “I can’t leave you guys. Not now.”

“I don’t want to go away from you,” Damian mumbled into Dick’s coat. “Don’t make us go, Dick.”

Dick’s tears only flowed harder. “I’m tired, guys. We’re all tired. I’m worried we’re actually going to freeze. This isn’t working anymore.”

Jason pushed himself back so that he could properly glare at Dick. “Okay, first of all, we work harder to get more blankets. Second of all, we don’t need school. We have the library. Third of all, I’m getting better at pickpocketing and Tim and Dami are getting to be experts on scrounging the dumpsters and Dami can get anyone to give him a handout with those eyes of his. We can do better. We’ll have to spend more time warm at the library, but we can do this. We can do it, Dick.” He was pleading now, his voice thick with desperation.

Dick closed his eyes.

“Ray Bradbury said libraries were better than school,” Tim said, and then laughed. “Not what you’re looking for, but still.” He rubbed his face and shrugged. “Dick, you and Jason have been out here a long time. I have a home to go back to, although I can’t imagine the trouble I’ll be in if I do, and I really, really don’t want to. I want to stay here with you. We’ll work harder to be safe. We’ll try saving more so that we aren’t as day to day. Okay?”

The tears slowed and stopped, and Dick took a deep breath.

Damian sat up and put his little hands on Dick’s face. His eyebrows pinched, and he said, “We cannot be split up. I won’t stand for it, and you said you would help me find my father. It’s not going to be easy, but we can do it. We will be safe if we are together.”

“See?” Jason said, “Even the munchkin knows we’re a team.”

Dick grinned and pulled Damian in for a hug. “Okay, squirt. I won’t stand for it, either.”

It was morning, so they rolled up their blankets, pulled on their shoes, and headed out. Today he would find a place that would let him work a shift, the other boys would bring some money back, too, and they would stick together. He wasn’t sure if it was the best idea, but clearly it was the only idea that would work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene in this chapter has Dick and Tim being caught by traffickers. They do not get trafficked. They escape right away, but they know what the traffickers were going to do with them when one of them comments on Tim's 'pretty' face. Tim and Dick are pretty shaken up by the incident. The purpose is to show the dangers of young kids living homeless on the streets. 
> 
> Also, the Ray Bradbury quote referenced is: "I spent three days a week for 10 years educating myself in the public library, and it's better than college."
> 
> I know a lot of you are headed back to school in the US in some form or another. Good luck!


	12. This Loathsome Little Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian very much wants to find his father. He doesn't have much to go on, though, and Tim's about had enough of it. Tim and Damian come to an important understanding, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of child abuse, both mental and physical.

Gotham smelled like dead fish and wet tar all the time. Damian was used to the clean air of the desert, the smell of wind and sand and sweat mingling together, or of spices and candles and clean sheets. Every morning he woke in Gotham, in the warehouse, he winced at the stench before he moved around and forgot. The smell was bad, and the food was worse. He’d eaten so much peanut butter and so many eggs and so much bland bread in the last two months he questioned if he’d ever be able to tolerate finely spiced food when he did finally get some again.

For now, he ate what was handed to him and hoped that one day they’d be able to eat good food again. His days were consumed by trying to find money and buy food, so it was hard to ignore like he could learn to ignore the stench of the city. Money was something else he’d never had to deal with before. Before, he could wander a market or store and point to something, and it would be waiting for him in his bedroom when he got home. Clothing was never a need because his closet was always stocked and if he grew someone knew it and adjusted properly.

Damian now had to adjust for everything himself, although Dick seemed to know that his shoes were too small and had saved money to buy a new pair. Dick seemed to know when Damian was too tired to decide what to eat if they could go to the diner, and he’d order for Damian, being careful of his vegetarianism and nutritional needs. Dick seemed to know when he was awake in the night because homesickness was a visceral pull in his chest and he needed to be distracted, or if he was awake from a noise and just needed to go back to sleep. Dick understood Damian as well as anyone ever had already, and how he managed it completely baffled Damian.

“Hey kiddo,” Dick whispered a few hours after they went to bed.

Damian pulled his knees close and rolled onto Dick’s lap right away and nuzzled against his leg like a puppy.Dick chuckled and ran his hand through Damian’s hair.

The first few weeks in Gotham Damian had denied himself Dick’s hugs or brushes because Mother would be appalled at Damian for showing such needy behavior, but Mother was gone and never coming back. She couldn’t judge him here. Besides, he held himself apart during the day like a proper boy. Nighttime he could cheat.

“Just need to sleep, Dami?” Dick asked.

Damian might give in to touches at night, but nicknames still grated his nerves like fleas biting at his skin. “I’m Damian, you heathen,” he muttered. “And yes. Do you mind if I sleep on you a little bit?”

Dick laughed. “I don’t mind.”

It was very cold, despite their blankets and the coat Damian arrived with, but Damian didn’t mind so much. Sleeping in uncomfortable circumstances had been part of his training in Egypt at least once a month, whether it was extreme cold or extreme heat. He’d take extreme cold over the humid, sticky jungles of Peru any day. Dick and Tim seemed the most bothered by the cold nights, and Jason seemed very susceptible to illness. Damian didn’t complain, but he did like snuggling against Dick every few nights.

When he woke again it was morning and the other boys were still sleeping. He stood and quietly crept to an open part of the warehouse, checked for intruders, and began his morning routine of stretches and katas. Before long, Dick joined him and stretched and practiced balancing skills. Damian had seen a circus with his mother once and finding out that Dick had been part of such a troupe had thrilled Damian to his toes. Dick was teaching him to spin and fly from the bars at the playground when the weather was good.

That wasn’t very often now that December had hit, so now Damian had an idea. “I could teach you what I know about sword skills if we fashion wooden ones from some of this trash here,” he said as Dick flipped down from a handstand and Tim and Jason wandered up.

Jason whistled low. “You know how to use swords, D? That’s wild.”

Damian frowned. “Of course. I was being raised by assassins. One can’t always use a gun.”

Tim bent over and did some stretches. “Yeah, that’s cool, Damian, but you’re already teaching us self-defense and fighting. Maybe we should stick with that?” He paused. “Plus, it kind of freaks me out that you were being raised by assassins. I don’t even know what that means. Your mom sounds . . . unconventional.”

Damian had tensed when Tim brought up his mother, but unconventional? “She is that, I suppose. The training was necessary back home. It seems like it might be necessary here, as well.” He glanced at Dick and Tim. They had come close to being abducted last month and Tim still woke in the night yelling.

Tim ducked his head and Jason glared at Damian, but he hadn’t meant to make anyone angry. “You both got away thanks to a move I showed you. You did well,” he said, trying to sound like his mother did when she was proud of something back home. It must have worked, because Tim relaxed, and Dick agreed.

“We got away when we needed to, but more training is good. Plus, it keeps us warm. How about we all go out for a few hours and then meet back here to work on self-defense. We’ll talk about swords later.”

They all agreed, and Dick left to check all of the restaurants and markets around for work and Tim, Jason, and Damian headed for the best place to find sale-worthy things and aluminum. Jason stopped at a corner, though, and crossed his arms. “I don’t want to pick up trash today,” he declared.

Tim sighed, one of his favorite things to do at Jason apparently, and said, “Well, what are you going to do instead?”

Jason pursed his lips and then waved his hand in the direction of the wealthier part of town that was a good twenty-minute walk away. “I’m gonna go see if any richies will give me anything.”

Damian stepped close to him. “May I come?” He hated begging, actually, but going to the richer part of town increased Damian’s chances of seeing his father. He’d taken to asking everyone they approached whether they’d ever been to Egypt. It drove Jason crazy, which was an added bonus. Once he’d met a man who said yes and Damian asked him question after question until the man said he had not, in fact, been since 1971. Damian paid more attention to people’s ages after that. He might also be able to convince Jason to go to the gangsters’ part of town as well, which Damian was convinced gave him an even chance at running into his father.

Jason frowned, though, and pushed Damian bodily back toward Tim. “Stay with Timmers today, little D. He could use the company.”

“You shouldn’t go off by yourself, Jason,” Tim said. “I don’t like it.”

Tim didn’t like any of them to be alone these days and had even insisted on walking with Dick until he found a place to work for the month after the attempted abduction.

“Just for a while, Tim. Give me two hours to see what I can do. I’ll meet you two back at the library then. I’ll be careful.”

Jason left with a wave and Tim stood staring after him until he was out of sight. His shoulders slumped and he turned to Damian. “Okay, I guess we should go see what we can find in the alley dumpsters. We haven’t looked in a few days.”

Damian squared his shoulders. “No. I want to go to the club alley. With the nightclubs, you know.”

Tim tugged nervously at his hair with one hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You know the clubs don’t even open for another few hours. And they don’t like giving handouts, really, those guys that work over there.”

“We can look for cans over there. I can look for men who resemble me.”

Tim glared for a moment and then sighed again. “Fine. Fine. Let’s go. I’m sure we’ll find your dad just wandering the streets of Crime Alley waiting for you to quiz him about Egypt. I’m sure he’ll be your practical twin except in an expensive suit and you’ll just walk up and say, “Do you know my mother?”

They both stared at each other for a moment. Damian’s body lit with adrenaline. “Drake. That’s brilliant.”

Tim grinned. “You should ask everyone if they know your mom’s name. Yes! Why didn’t we think of that before, Damian?”

Damian shoved his hands in his coat pocket and took off across the street. “Because Gotham turns everyone’s brain to mush, I think,” he called over his shoulder. He turned down the next street to head for Crime Alley and he tried to think of any problems with this idea. About half a block later he stopped so quickly that Tim ran into him.

“You okay, Damian?” he asked.

Damian found a nearby step and sank onto it. He pulled his knees close. “My mother is part of the League of Assassins. They are who she was training me to lead.”

“Okay…” Tim said, sitting down next to Damian.

Damian turned to him. “If I let it be known that I’m associated with Talia al Ghul, this may bring us trouble. She’s a very powerful person in the League. The League has clearly had dealings in Gotham, or she wouldn’t have met my father, and it’s a shady enough place that they’re probably involved in things here. I may not want to draw that kind of attention to us.”

Tim bit his lip and nodded. “Oh. Huh. That kind of makes sense, but the crime families of Gotham don’t seem like the types to pay much attention to a seven-year-old’s questions. Maybe we can just ask a few people and then disappear.” 

Damian rested his chin on his knees. His mother was powerful, his grandfather even more powerful than her, and Gotham was already a dangerous place for Damian and the other boys. “I very much want to find my father,” he said.

Tim reached over and patted his shoulder. “I know. I want you to find him. But we don’t even have a name, and if talking about your mother is dangerous, we shouldn’t do it a lot. How about we try a few people and then lay off for a week or two and then ask again?”

Damian didn’t answer, just closed his eyes for a few moments. He wanted to ask around. If he threw his name around, someone might know something and take him directly to his father. The al Ghul name had that kind of power. He stole a glance at Tim sitting next to him, though, and considered Dick and Jason. Jason was so good at navigating the streets of Gotham and was willing to tell Damian all of his secrets about it and Dick was so affectionate and accepting of Damian from the very start. “I can’t.” He stood up. “I can’t risk something happening to the three of you. I’ll have to think of another way to find my father.” He climbed back down to the street. “Let’s just go look for aluminum.”

“Okay, Damian. If that’s what you want,” Tim replied, his voice soft.

They started off toward their area of town, picking up cans and bottles along the way. When they turned them in at the center, they got eleven dollars and thirty-two cents, and Damian was no closer to finding his father.

“What do you think he’s like?” Tim asked as they waited for Jason on the steps of the library. “Your father, I mean.”

Damian stood on his toes to practice his balance. “I imagine he’s tall. My mother said I’d be tall, and she is not overly tall. I imagine he has dark hair like mine.” He closed his eyes and stayed balanced on one foot. “I know that he is strong and can fight.”

Tim said, “My dad couldn’t fight,” and his voice was light and far away.

Damian opened his eyes. “What did your father do for a living?” he asked. Tim hadn’t talked much about his parents. Dick and Jason practically spat when they mentioned them and said Tim had been abused. Damian wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was bad for sure. Tim’s face always twisted a little when they spoke of them.

“He was an archeologist. They also ran Drake Industries, a company that dealt with technology and military contracts.”

Damian frowned. “An archeologist? What is that?” It was rare that English got in Damian’s way, but sometimes it did.

Tim smiled. “They research ancient civilizations and look for physical clues about them. They dig for bones and pottery and tools and things and draw conclusions from that.”

“That sounds interesting,” Damian said. “Did they let you dig for bones and pottery?”

Tim poked his toe at the step. “No. They never took me along. They left me behind and two years ago they stopped even making sure someone came to take care of me while they were gone.”

“So your father wasn’t a strong man?” Damian imagined a smallish man who had his nose in a book all the time, or over a microscope.

Tim laughed a bitter laugh. “No. He wasn’t very strong. My mother was the one who could land a hit. He just let her do the dirty work with me.”

“My mother could fight spectacularly,” Damian said, even though fighting others was not what Tim was talking about. “I think my father would have had to be very good to keep up with her.”

“Was it your mother who forced you to fight, Damian? Did she make you do it?”

Damian blinked and nodded. “Yes. I had to fight. I had to learn to fight better than grown men, actually, and I had to learn to – “ he hadn’t said this out loud to the other boys yet. This he hadn’t said directly, but it felt right to say it to Tim now. “I had to learn to kill. But I didn’t want to kill, and that disappointed her. She said I was weak.”

“Damian,” Tim whispered, his face full of horror. “She wanted you to kill someone?”

Damian pressed his forehead to his knees. “Yes. I was to be her prize weapon someday and killing needed to come easily.”

“You’re. You’re seven. Oh my god. Is this what you meant when said you ‘disappointed her’?”

Damian just nodded. His mother’s voice echoed in his memory. _‘Damain, this is not fitting of an al-Ghul. You are not behaving like one of us. Ending a life is necessary, and these are not men you’re being asked to kill. They’re animals.’_ Well, Damian wouldn’t dream of killing an animal. An animal has no capacity for evil. He shivered.

Tim knelt down and rubbed his back. “Damian,” he whispered. “No one should kill another person. Never. Not on purpose.”

Damian raised his head. “That’s ridiculous. Some people are evil and get in the way of the side of right.” That’s what his mother had always said, that they were ‘on the side of right.’ Damian just figured that not everyone could be on the wrong side like she said so many were. “I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“No, Damian.” Tim’s voice was hard. “No person should purposefully kill someone else. That’s not the side of right. Ever. Oh my god. She wanted a seven-year-old to kill a person? That’s crazy, you know.” He leaned closer to Damian, and Damian had never seen him look so angry. “You don’t train a child to kill. Damain. She was wrong to do that to you.”

Damian met his gaze but said nothing. How could he explain why the League killed and why Damian should have done what his mother asked? Those words wouldn’t come. Instead, “I wasn’t willing to kill,” he whispered. “She sent me away because I wouldn’t kill, and my grandfather would have killed me if I was useless to them. She said she was saving me, but she was so angry at me she wouldn’t tell me who my father is or how to find him. I just want to find him.” He blinked back tears and put his head back down.

Tim sat rubbing his back for a few minutes, and said, “I hope you find him, Damian, but if he’s anything like your mother I don’t know if we can let you go with him. You’re too good for all of that, and we don’t want you to go away.”

Damian’s heart ached. He didn’t want to leave the boys, either – leaving them now would cause a physical pain - but he desperately wanted to find his father. “I will defend you from him if he is like her. We won’t stay if he is like her. We will see, and then we will all leave him together. Will that be sufficient?” he asked, imploring.

Tim smiled at him. “Okay, Damian. We’ll find him and then if he’s crazy and wants you to be a killer, or if he’s a killer, we’ll leave. We’ll leave and one day we’ll all get our own place and live together off the streets.”

They sat quietly waiting for Jason for a few more minutes when a thought occurred to Damian and he smiled. “Tim?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“If we all get a house together, can we get some pets? Maybe a cat or a dog?” Damian ached to have his own animal to take care of. He would be so good at taking care of a cat or a dog and they would love him, too.

Tim laughed. “I think if we get a house together, we might be able to convince Dick and Jason to get a cat _and_ a dog. That would be very cool.”

“Yes,” Damian replied, his heart finally calming down. “I would like that very much.”


	13. Like a Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's trying his hardest to get his new family off the streets, but with the finish line in sight, he stumbles and falls. Good thing there's a Bat around to catch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

Winter was here. Jason had gotten over the bronchitis, thankfully, but now he wondered out loud, “Why do I get sick more than you do, Dick? Or Tim or Dami?” one morning as he was huddled in his blankets and his body just ached, like he was catching something.

Dick ruffled his hair as he passed by. “I dunno, Jay. You’ve been out here longer than us, I guess.”

Jason closed his eyes and tried to keep the blanket over his exposed face. He was so cold. When he opened them again Dick was crouched in front of him, a pinched look on his face.

“You feeling sick?” he asked quietly.

Jason shrugged and closed his eyes again. “Maybe. Just achy.”

Dick sighed and sat back on his heels. “Okay. When it’s warmer this afternoon you should try and sleep some more, okay? Get the boys to come back here with you and stand watch. They can practice what Dami’s been teaching us while you sleep.”

Jason nodded. “Okay, Dick. I’m sorry.” He was. It was like every month was a roulette wheel of ‘will Jason be sick a few days this month or not’? and it usually landed on ‘yes.’ He was so tired of it. That’s why he’d been sneaking off from Tim and Damian more often. He was going to save enough money for a crappy apartment if it killed him. He had money saved and he hadn’t told the others about it. They used Dick’s occasional dish-washing money and the scraps and recycling money for meals, and Jason made sure he went out begging every few days.

The other days, though? He snuck off and worked for the chop shop. Sammy had been praising Jason’s quick hands, and he always paid up. Jason had over a hundred dollars saved. He and Tim had done some research, and they needed at least three hundred for a deposit on an apartment, and six hundred for rent, which they decided they needed to begin with, so they weren’t behind from the start. Jason was working on it.

This morning, he ditched Tim and Damian early, promising to meet them at the warehouse later for a nap, and he headed over to the shop. He stood by while Sammy changed the oil on a car, and he carefully tracked every move and committed it to memory. Maybe when he was older, he could work here. He loved the cars, the way they fit together precisely and how each part had a purpose and messing with one part in the system it belonged to could disrupt the whole thing. The sense of order and control he felt when he did the right things to get the part off was a rush.

Today Sammy turned from his job and wiped his hands on an oilcloth and pierced Jason with a stare. “Hey Todd, I think you’re ready.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “For what?” Sammy had hardly ever spoken to him before, just handed out money for parts and told him how to get something in particular off the cars.

“I’m gonna let you go on assignment for me. When I need somethin’ specific, okay? I’ll give you a bonus over what I normally pay since you’re doin’ somethin’ I ask for. Twenty bucks more when I tell you what to get. Oh, and there’s a special bonus you can know about.”

Jason leaned forward. This was crazy. He was twelve years old. “You do this for all the little kids who bring you shit?” he asked.

Sammy grinned a feral grin that made Jason’s blood run cold. “You’re different, Todd. You’ve got skill with those hands and you’re fast.” He shrugged. “I’m not giving you a job with benefits or nothin’, but you do what I ask, and I’ll set you up better than the others.”

He needed money and they needed to get off the streets. If Dick could land a real job and Jason could bring in bonus money, they might make it. “Okay,” he said. What’s the special bonus?”

Sammy gestured him over to an area of the garage he’d never been before. It was in the back, and there was even a black curtain setting it off. Jason had to steel his shoulders to follow Sammy. He was breaking all of their rules, going somewhere weird alone with an adult. But they needed money, so he followed. Behind the curtain was an area that was clean, organized, and far less greasy than the rest of the garage. There were bins and shelves neatly stacked with gleaming, clean car parts. There was a beautiful deep purple Jaguar sitting on blocks in the center of the area, gleaming with elegance. It took Jason’s breath away.

Without thinking, he approached it and walked around it, drinking in the shining chrome accents and the sleek hood of the car.

“She’s a beauty, yeah?” Sammy said, crossing his arms and smiling at the car.

“Yeah,” Jason answered.

“Look, kid. I need crappy car parts to sell to desperate people, that’s for damned sure. I need cheap parts to do repairs for people. But I also have other clients who want something better. They want better parts and prettier repairs. To do that you need to steal from rich bastard’s cars, not the trash we find on the streets of Crime Alley. You steal me hubcaps nice enough for a car like this and I’ll give you an extra twenty on top of the assignment bonus. You grab tires that don’t look ten years old and I’ll give you a bonus. You get something off a specialty car that’s unique? I’ll give you thirty more.”

Jason ran his hand just above the shiny hood of the Jaguar and nodded. “Okay,” he said, and he crouched down to get a better look at the underside, to see what a rich guy’s oil pan looked like. It was cleaner.

“Hey,” Sammy snapped, and Jason popped back to his feet. “Another thing. You been selling me parts for a year now. I know where you hang around, I know who you run around with. You breathe a word of this to a cop or a rival and I’ll find you and tear you to pieces and then I’ll tear up your friends, too, understand? That little nerd with the backpack will end up in pieces in that park. Got it?”

Jason drew in a shaky breath at the vision of a broken and bleeding Tim and he nodded and backed away. “I got it.”

Sammy glared for a moment and then nodded. “Okay. Anything rich, and right now I need mirrors and tires. Bring those specific things in and I’ll give you a bonus. Now scram.”

Jason ran. He barreled out of the shop and down the street and around a corner before he stopped and bent over, sucking in the icy late November air. He leaned against a building and tried to catch his breath. The ache that he’d woken up with this morning pulsed in his knees, and he was a little bit nauseous. He had a few dollars in his pocket, so he walked to a nearby gas station and bought a Sprite and a package of crackers. He should save the money, but if he was going to do anything for Sammy today, he needed to not throw up. 

He sat on a step and drank the soda and ate the crackers and tried to run what Sammy had said through his head again. Twenty and thirty dollars more on top of the tens and twenties already. That was forty to sixty per part, and if he could get two or three each day, he could really save up. The boys could live on eighty bucks or so a week, crackers and juice and a meal here and there. They might have enough for a deposit in a month. Off the streets, in a place that Dick could rent with his fake ID, and warm. He had to close his eyes and blow out a breath at the idea of that.

Okay. If he could at least scope out the areas where he went panhandling, there might be some cars there that would make good targets. His stomach settled after his snack, and he still had a couple hours before he’d agreed to meet back with Tim and Damian. He stood up and headed out. An hour later he was running with two gleaming designer mirrors in his arms and no one chasing him. The weight of the mirrors and the forty minute walk back to Sammy’s shop left him shaking and sweaty, but Sammy’s clap and “I knew you could do it, kid!” made him grin, too, and when Sammy handed over sixty dollars in cash he stared at it for a minute before shaking himself and nodding his thanks to Sammy.

The guy just laughed and thanked Jason, and wandered away, leaving Jason standing in the shop with enough money for two days. He wouldn’t tell the others about all of it, though. Not if he really wanted to save up and not worry Dick over stealing. He pocketed twenty and took the rest back to the warehouse on his own, stuffing it in the box buried in rubble on the far side of the place before he wandered back out to meet Tim and Damian.

By the time the two younger boys found Jason on the park bench, he had actually dozed off, which Damian berated him for all the way back to the warehouse.

“You’re going to get yourself kidnapped or killed or picked up by the police, Jason!” he grumbled for the fourth time as they crawled in through the window of the warehouse.

Jason ignored him and headed for their blanket stash. “I’m gonna crash,” he told Tim. “You guys gonna practice?” he asked as he pulled a couple blankets out and curled up on the floor.

Tim sat down next to Jason and leaned over with a worried frown. “I can help you sleep if you want to lay on my lap,” he said. “You’re really pale.” He reached down and felt Jason’s forehead. “You’re warm, too.”

Jason closed his eyes. “I’m fucking freezing, you mean,” he grumbled, and then he sat up suddenly. “Hey, I forgot. I got twenty bucks. Here – maybe if Dick got anything we can get a meal tonight.”

Tim took the money and stared at it in his hand. “Okay,” he said without looking up. “We only got five dollars today. I’m sorry.”

“Tim,” Jason said around a yawn. “We talked about this. It’s no one’s fault when we can’t get money. Right?”

Tim didn’t answer, just patted his lap, so Jason sighed and scooted so he could lay his head on Tim’s legs. It did help, and Tim brushed his hand through Jason’s hair in a steady rhythm, and that helped, too. Jason was out in under a minute.

When he woke, Tim and Dick had switched places, and Dick was dozing, too. Jason moved, and Dick’s eyes popped open. “Hey,” he said gently. “How are you feeling?”

Jason sat up and rubbed his face. “I’m okay,” he said. “The nap helped.” He wasn’t lying, either. “You get any jobs today?” he asked.

Dick’s face fell and he folded his arms over his chest. “No,” he said. “I got told six different times to get lost.”

Jason turned to where Tim and Damian were wrestling nearby. He said to Dick, “I think we have twenty-five dollars or so. If you want, we could go get something at the diner. Warm up.”

“Are you up for it?” Dick asked.

Jason sat up. He was rested and steadier than before the nap, so he nodded and stood up. It was freezing again, but he wasn’t shaky. “Hey punks!” he called. Tim and Damian froze mid-wrestle and grinned up at him. “Let’s go get warm and get some food.” The boys jumped up and everyone tumbled out of the warehouse together. Dick stuck close to Jason, and when they got to the restaurant, he sat next to him, leaning against his shoulder. The smell of food when they walked in made Jason swallow thickly, and he ordered some juice and toast when the waitress came around. The others ordered breakfast food, cheaper than dinner, and they couldn’t get much.

Jason was glad he wasn’t hungry because Dick could get a bit more food.

“Not hungry, Jay?” Tim asked when their food showed up.

He shook his head. “Stomach didn’t like the smell of the place when we walked in.”

They stayed as long as they could, but they eventually had to head back out to the street. It was probably about nine, and it had been dark for a few hours already. The frigid air smacked Jason like a brick.

“Should we go back to the warehouse to sleep since you might be sick?” Dick asked. “I think we should.”

Jason rubbed his arms. “No, it’s too cold. Let’s just walk around a while. Maybe we’ll find something useful.”

Tim was hyped up on the coffee he’d ordered, and Damian had just ingested way too much sugar, so they yelled their agreement with Jason and bounced ahead of them as Dick and Jason walked. They didn’t find much until a couple hours later, when they rounded a corner and in a dingy alley they’d passed a thousand times, sat the craziest car Jason had ever seen.

“The Batmobile!” Dick whispered.

Jason blinked as Tim frowned at Dick.

“The Batmobile? That’s kind of stupid, Dick.”

“Why? It’s Batman’s car – we’ve seen it before.”

“From a distance,” Jason said, and his feet moved on their own and carried him toward the car. “I bet he doesn’t call it that.”

“Jason!” Dick exclaimed. “Don’t touch it!”

Damian followed on Jason’s heels and said, “If he is a ninja and fighter, it may have traps.”

Jason knelt down in front of the car and drank in the sight of the sleek black lines and gold trim on a car clearly built for speed and hitting things. It was the strangest combination of a fast car and a stock car that he’d ever seen. He leaned closer.

“Jason!” Dick hissed. He put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t mess with it.”

Jason didn’t listen. Instead, he stared until he found it – a thin filament wire wrapped tightly around the hood, barely visible. He followed it with his eyes and it ran under the car. Jason laid down and scooted closer to see the wire congregate in a little black box near the oil pan. The box was screwed in, but Jason could see the main, thick wire that clearly charged the security and if he could cut that, he bet the system would crash. A hand on his foot yanked him backward and Dick dragged him to his feet and pushed him away.

“What the hell are you doing, Jason? That’s Batman’s car!” he said.

Jason blinked and looked around Dick’s body to stare at the car again. It was so cool. He pulled away from Dick and circled the car, taking in the bumper made of a material Jason had never seen before, and his eyes landed on the tires. If any tires had ever screamed ‘specialty tire,’ it was these. Jason crouched down in front of one. His nausea and shakes had disappeared to the back of his mind and now he was just envisioning rolling a couple of these into Sammy’s shop and getting, like, a hundred bucks in one go. They’d have deposit money in a week, not a month.

He stood up and faced Dick with his hands on his hips. “Okay,” he said, and something in his tone made Dick, Damian and Tim all snap their attention to him. “I have two things to tell you guys and then I have a plan. Just listen and let me finish, okay?”

Dick frowned. “Jason,” he started.

“Dick, please. Just listen and let me finish,” Jason implored.

Dick closed his mouth and finally nodded.

Jason took a deep breath. “Okay. Tim and I did some research and figured out that if we wanted you to use the fake ID and rent a cheap apartment, we’d need about eight hundred dollars.”

Tim nodded. “We did that a while ago, Jason.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been thinking about it since. So we’d need around eight hundred, which is crazy, right?”

Tim shrugged. “I’d kinda given up on it when Dick had trouble finding a steady job.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “I get it. But I didn’t give up. You said it yourself, Dick. We need to get off the streets. I’m fucking tired of it, and I’m worried about the littles.”

“I am not a ‘little,’” Damian snarled. Tim shushed him.

“So where are we gonna get eight hundred dollars, Jason?” Dick asked, but the look on his face made it clear he was connecting the dots.

Jason bit his lip and took a deep breath. “So, two things. First, I’ve saved about a hundred and fifty already. I know you don’t like me stealing shit, Dick, so I kept my mouth shut about it and I’ve been saving the money. Plus, Sammy over at the chop shop told me just this morning that I was the best kid he’d seen at lifting car parts, and he offered me pretty steady work and more money. If I get what he asks for he’ll give me an extra twenty or thirty bucks. I can make a hundred in a day, easy.”

Dick started to protest, but Jason cut him off. He pointed at the Batmobile. “This car? These tires and caps? Dick, I bet I could get a couple hundred in one go! Maybe more! Add to that what I can get tomorrow and the day after and we could get ourselves off the street in a week or two! Dick, I’m tired! I’m tired of being cold ALL THE TIME. I’m tired of sleeping on a floor! Damian’s seven! Tim is ten! No one should be out here as long as me!” He stopped and took heaving breaths and stepped back from Dick. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sick of it, Dickie. I’m just sick of it. I’ll take the chance of getting separated if it means you guys can have a place.”

Dick’s face twisted and he swallowed thickly before he nodded. “It just – it just scares me, okay? All of it does, but this here? This is Batman’s car. I know he helps people, but he’s not gonna just walk away if he catches us stealing his car parts.”

“Then let’s move fast and get out of here,” Jason said, and he turned to the car. “Sammy’s shop is only a couple blocks from here, too. I’ll go get a lug wrench. He lets me borrow them. I’ll be back real quick.”

Dick rubbed his hands down his face, but he nodded. I’ll come with you. Dami and Tim, you two stay out of sight, you got it?”

“Got it!” Tim said, and they scrambled behind the dumpster nearby.

Jason and Dick ran, and they were back in the alley ten minutes later with a lug wrench. Jason hadn’t told Sammy about the huge score he might get ‘cause he didn’t want someone following them for it, but he’d grabbed the wrench and waved as he’d left. Tim and Dami scrambled out from behind the dumpster.

Tim said behind him, “Dick, let’s go keep watch. Dami and I can watch the entrance and you can stay on the fire escape and watch high.”

There was a scurry of feet on the metal fire escape, but Jason was focused on the little black box under the car. He ignored the way his stomach was churning again, and he ignored the headache that was threatening. He pulled out his knife and crawled close and held his breath while he reached out and cut what he thought was the lead wire. He hadn’t heard the hum before, but when he cut the wire the alley was suddenly a bit quieter. He grinned. He scooted out from under the car and brushed off his hands. He picked up the wrench and got to work.

They were the hardest tires Jason had ever pulled. It took a good five minutes just for one, but he got it. He leaned the tire against the dumpster and went for a second one. He’d gotten three of the lug nuts off when a loud whoosh and thump of boots hitting the ground made him stop and turn.

“Are you seriously stealing my tires, kid?”

Jason jumped and yelled, “Shit!” but he gripped the lug wrench tight and swung for Batman’s leg. He wasn’t gonna get caught. The wrench rattled his arms when he met a pad or something instead of hitting flesh. He glared at Batman. “Hey asshole, you better leave me alone if you know what’s good for you.”

Batman did something with his face that made fear run down Jason’s spine. He scrambled backward right against the dumpster.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Batman said, and he put up his hands like he wanted Jason to be able to see them. The fear didn’t leave Jason’s spine. “Are you working for someone?” Batman asked.

“I don’t work for no one,” he answered. Like he’d tell Batman anyway. Jesus, the guy really was huge up close.

“Anyone,” Batman replied.

Jason cocked his head. “Did you just correct my grammar?” That was really weird.

Batman shrugged. “Habit.”

At that, Dick called down, “Are you an English teacher by day?”

Suddenly Dick jumped down, landing on Batman’s shoulders just as Tim and Damian scurried out and kicked Batman in the kneecaps. Batman ducked and threw Dick off his shoulders and then pulled Tim and Damian so that he had all four boys against the alley wall.

“Fuck you, Batman!” Jason growled. He wasn’t going to let this be the end of his new family. He’d fight. Dick had the same look on his face, too.

Batman backed up. “Stop,” he said firmly. Something in his voice made Tim and Damian stop struggling right away and Dick stepped in front of them. Jason stepped back next to Dick, but he swore at the Batman. Adrenaline flooded his body and he raised the lug wrench again. If he could get one good hit in, then maybe they could run. Batman glared at him and he stopped cussing, but he held the wrench up.

“I want to help you,” Batman said. “Who are you boys?”

Jason snarled, “You can’t help us. You’ll just throw us to the cops and that’s the fucking opposite of help.”

Damian, though, spoke before Dick could shush him. “I am Damian al Ghul and I’m looking for my father. You are a ninja. Perhaps you know him?”

Jason rolled his eyes and glared. “For fuck’s sake, Dami. Shut the hell up.”

Batman, though, backed up a step and stared at Damian like he was seeing him for the first time. “You’re an al Ghul?” he asked, incredulous.

Damian somehow managed to preen in a smelly Gotham alley, and Jason’s breath hitched. Batman fucking recognized Damian’s name. Holy shit.

Damian said, “Yes. My mother is Talia al Ghul and she told me my father lives in Gotham and is a fighter. I’ve been looking for him for months, and my new brothers have been helping me.”

Batman stared for almost a minute and then appeared to shake himself. “What about you?” he asked Dick.

Dick said, resignedly, “I’m Dick Grayson.”

Batman sucked in a breath. “Say that again.”

Dick blinked and glanced at Jason. “I’m Dick Grayson.”

“Of the Flying Graysons? Surely not,” Batman said, and Jason started to get a tingling in his hands and feet. This was getting beyond weird straight into worrisome.

At the mention of his family name, Dick grinned with pride. “Yes. I was a Flying Grayson.” His face fell. “Not for a long time, though.”

Batman crossed his arms. “You’re from Haley’s circus. You disappeared more than two years ago. You’ve been in Gotham the whole time?”

Dick nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Batman looked at Tim. “And you? What’s your name?”

Tim sighed. Jason’s heart stuttered. The whole thing was over, he just knew it, so he wasn’t surprised when Tim admitted, “I’m Timothy Drake.”

The funny thing was, as Jason’s nausea returned while Batman interrogated them, he wasn’t sure it was from being sick or from the knowledge that what he had been building here with Dick and Tim and Damian was over. Batman knew who Dick was. He seemed to know who Damian was. But Tim, well. Tim was a runaway who had parents. There was no way someone like the Bat would just let Tim run off again. Not if he knew the Drakes.

He did. Batman dropped his chin to his chest in an uncharacteristic display and then looked up again. “Drake, as in Drake Industries and Jack and Janet Drake?”

“You can’t let him go back there!” Jason cried. He stepped forward. “They don’t take care of him and they hurt him, and he has to fend for himself all alone. You can’t take him back to them. I won’t fucking let you.” Maybe it was over, but fuck that. Jason would fight.

Batman sighed and settled his gaze on Jason. “And what’s your name?” he asked, like he was expecting Jason to say he was the son of the President or something.

“I’m no one. My name’s Jason Todd and I was born right here in Crime Alley. You’re not taking me to the cops.” He swung the lug wrench again, but all the strength left him at the height of the swing, like his strings had been cut. He dropped it and stumbled back. Nausea roared in his stomach and black spots danced in his eyes.

“Jason!” Dick said, and he grabbed Jason and held him up.

“Is he all right?” Batman asked Dick.

“He’s been coming down with something. We’ll take care of him,” Dick declared. He gripped Jason’s elbow, tight.

Jason took deep breaths and stared at the ground to try and get rid of the nausea and dizziness.

Batman spoke again. His voice lost all the gravel and was even gentle. “Boys, listen to me. I’m not going to take you to the police. I promise. I want to help you and I know someone who can do that without getting the police involved right away. Damian, I may actually know your father. We’ll have to do some tests, but I may – I may know him. Dick, this is incredible, but I was part of the search for you after you disappeared from Haley’s after your parents died. Tim, I know your parents. If you ran away and they were hurting you, I’ll make sure you get help and don’t have to go back to them. Jason, you’re sick. My friend has medical experience and can help without getting anyone else involved. I promise my friend and I won’t involve the police until we can guarantee your safety, all right?”

Jason was leaning on Dick, but he lost the battle with his stomach and wrenched away in time to lean behind the dumpster and throw up the toast and juice from earlier. Dick gripped him around his waist while he emptied his stomach and pulled both of them to the ground when Jason was done, so he could hold Jason in his lap. He brushed his hand through Jason’s hair and whispered, “Maybe we should trust him, Jay. We need help.”

Damian and Tim knelt close by. Damian said, “He knows my father. Can we please go with him? We can work together to escape if it doesn’t turn out well. Plus, if he knows my father, maybe my father is a good man. He could help all of us when I find him.”

Jason was exhausted. His head was spinning, and he just nodded against Dick’s chest. He didn’t have any fight left.

Batman told them to wait while he put the tires back on the Batmobile, and then he helped them get Jason into the car. When Tim, Damian, and Jason were piled in the back and Dick buckled himself into the front seat, Batman closed the doors and they left Crime Alley. Jason fell asleep against Tim’s shoulder as Batman said, “Al, I’m coming home with some stray kids. Can you make up four beds? Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue.... I can't leave it here!


	14. The Bottom Line For Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys spend their first night at Wayne Manor and find a future. Bruce Wayne finds a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who have been here all along, and for the cool support you've given me. I hope newcomers like this little AU I created!

Jason’s head was heavy on Tim’s shoulder, digging into his bone a little uncomfortably, but his light snore held Tim still. Jason needed rest. He’d been so angry, so determined to keep them out of the hands of Batman, but Dick was right. They needed help. Tim held still so that Jason could sleep, and the lights of the city blurred together as Batman steered them away from Gotham, across the bridge. Tim’s stomach twisted when he recognized where they were headed.

“You’re taking us to Bristol?” he asked, and his voice shook like a traitor caught red handed.

Dick turned to him and Batman checked him in the rearview mirror.

“Yes,” Batman answered, and Tim’s stomach dropped. Hopefully he wouldn’t throw up like Jason did.

Dick narrowed his eyes at Tim. “What’s wrong, Timmy?”

Tim leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “That’s where my parents live.”

“You can’t take him home!” Dick cried. “You promised!”

“I’m not taking him home,” Batman answered. “I did promise, and I intend to find out what situation he ran away from before any decisions are made. He’ll be safe.”

“Then where are you taking us?” Tim asked, staring out the window. The familiar sights of green lawns and the occasional cluster of upscale shops and restaurants were coming into view.

“Wayne Manor,” Batman said, and Tim’s head snapped up. “Bruce Wayne will take care of you.”

Tim squeaked.

Damian craned his head to stare at him. “Why did you do that?” he demanded.

Tim whispered, “I don’t know, shut up. You’re taking us to Bruce Wayne?”

Damian chimed in, “Tim, didn’t you say that Batman might be,”

Tim risked Jason waking to smack Damian on the arm and hissing, “Shut up, Damian!”

Damian shut up and glared at Tim. “What did I do?” he snapped.

“Just shut up!” They didn’t need to aggravate the vigilante who was promising to take care of them with dumb theories that there was no way he was going to confirm anyway.

When they pulled through the gates of Wayne Manor, Dick whistled.

“That’s a cool gate,” he said.

“I could escape it,” Damian muttered.

“It’s not that kind of gate, Damian,” Tim sighed. “It’s not a prison.”

“Tim, do you know Bruce Wayne?” Dick asked, shooting his own glare at Damian.

Tim nodded. “My parents knew him. We went to a few parties at his house and, uh, we’re kind of neighbors.”

“They won’t know that you’re there until we want them to know,” Batman said, and before anything else could be said, they were pulling to a stop.

Tim’s breath hitched at the sight of the old mansion. ‘The Waynes are snobby old money,’ his mother snapped in his memory. ‘Bruce Wayne is an idiot,’ his father retorted. ‘This house is pretty, though,’ his own voice echoed from the past.

Tim blinked away the memory and Dick was already reaching in to pull Jason out of the car. Tim gently lifted his shoulder and pressed his hand to Jason’s arm. “Jason, hey. Wake up, okay?”

“Wake up, buddy,” Dick said. “Time to get you some help.”

Jason shifted and opened his eyes. They were bloodshot and he had dark circles under them that worried Tim, but he let Dick pull him out of the car and help him upright. Tim climbed out after them and turned to stare down the long, winding driveway. He couldn’t see his house, but knowing it was there, just beyond the farthest tree line, made him swallow thickly and clutch his arms around his chest. What if his parents could just sense that he was close? Could parents do that? Would his even care?

“It’s good to see you again, young Master Tim,” an older man with a very British voice said, and a gentle hand rested on Tim’s shoulder.

He turned to the butler. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth,” he said, automatically.

Dick raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Damian scooted close to Tim.

“Call me Alfred, young sir.”

Tim nodded.

“Boys,” Batman said, and Tim had to suck in a deep breath. Batman at Wayne Manor. Tim’s brain started down his rabbit hole of ‘who is Batman’ again, but his thoughts were interrupted.

“I’m going to leave you here for the night. This is Alfred, and he and Mr. Wayne live here. Alfred will take care of you until Bruce gets home.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. No one had told Batman that Mr. Wayne wasn’t home.

“Alfred has medical training, and he’ll know if we need to call a doctor for Jason.”

As if his name triggered it, Jason suddenly wrenched himself out of Dick’s arms and fell toward the nearby bushes, vomiting again. Dick bent over him and held him up, and Damian leaned harder into Tim’s side, a worried frown on his face. Tim draped his arm over Damian’s shoulders.

“Let’s get everyone inside,” Alfred said, and Dick hauled Jason to his feet and picked him up. They all climbed the steps to the Manor and Batman climbed back in the Batmobile with a small wave. Alfred led them through a massive, bright foyer and down a long hallway to a kitchen that actually might have been out of a regular home in the suburbs. It had a small oak dining table in the corner, and Alfred motioned them to sit down. “Master Richard, I’ll have you bring Master Jason to a bedroom. Boys,” he said to Tim and Damian, “Sit here for a few minutes and I’ll be back to get you something to eat. If you’re thirsty, there are drinks in the door of the refrigerator.”

Alfred led Dick and Jason back down the hallway, and Tim slumped in a chair furthest from the cooking area. Damian dragged a chair so close to Tim’s that they were touching and climbed up next to him. They both put crossed arms on the table and put their heads down. Their arms pressed against each other. They didn’t speak, and Tim tried to keep his guard up, but it was warm and there was the faint smell of freshly baked bread in the air. Damian’s eyes were already closed, and Tim couldn’t keep his open, either. He was warm, and safe, in the kitchen of Wayne Manor. It was better than the streets, and Batman promised he’d keep Tim safe.

<><><><>

Damian woke to a hand on his shoulder and odd smells and very little sound, so his training kicked in and he shoved his chair back and slid to the floor. He rolled away from the table and leapt up, pulling the knife from his sock as he did. No one would get the jump on him. He blinked when no one attacked, and a tall man with very broad shoulders and dark hair stood in front of him with his hands up in a surrender position. The man’s blue eyes were sharp and taking in every inch of Damian as he stood ready to fight.

“You must be Damian,” the man said, and his voice was rough but full of kindness, like Dick’s always was. He lowered his hands and put his hands in his pants pockets, grey suit pants with a white button-down tucked into them.

Damian kept his knife up. “Stay away from Tim,” Damian growled. Tim was lifting his head and wiping his eyes, but when he saw Damian with the knife, he shook himself and sat up straight.

The man nodded and took a couple of steps backwards. “I’m not going to hurt either of you, I promise,” he said. “I’m Bruce Wayne and I live here.”

Damian’s heart raced in his chest. This was Bruce Wayne, a wealthy man who Batman trusted. He lowered his knife a little bit. “My brother and I were welcomed here by Pennyworth and Batman,” Damian declared. It was important to make sure Mr. Wayne had all of the pertinent information.

“Yes,” Wayne said. “You are welcome here. I’ll look after you all.”

There was something in his voice that stopped Damian and made him blink at this man who looked like he could switch moods in an instant. His face reminded Damian of his mother, really. Kind, but ready to fight if needed. “We don’t need looking after,” Damian said.

Behind him, Tim stood and said, “Damian, be nice. We do need looking after or Batman wouldn’t have brought us here. We appreciate your help, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce Wayne looked past Damian to Tim and smiled. “Timothy Drake. You’ve grown since I last saw you eating cupcakes in my ballroom.”

Tim didn’t smile back. Damian inched backward so they were standing next to each other.

“And you’re Damian al Ghul,” Mr. Wayne said. “I’ve met your mother. You have her eyes.”

Damian blinked. How had this man met his mother?

“We worked together for a short time years ago.” Mr. Wayne stepped a bit closer and knelt down so that he was eye to eye with Damian. “Damian,” he said. “I’m wondering if you’ll let me cut a bit of hair so that I can run a paternity test. I’d like to help you find your father.”

Damian couldn’t quell his eagerness. “You can run that test? Yes. Yes. I must find my father. My mother – she would like it, I think, if I found him.” Damian didn’t think his mother meant for him to die on the streets of Gotham. This had to be a test of hers, and if he can find his father then he would pass. The others viewed his mother as cruel and unworthy, and Damian had certainly learned a different definition of family over the last few months, but he still saw what she did as a test, not abandonment like Jason called it.

Mr. Wayne frowned, but he nodded. “I have some scissors here on the counter, and a sterile container. Do you mind if I cut a small piece of your hair? Then Alfred is almost done helping Jason and Dick, and he said something about fixing some soup for everyone.”

Damian followed him to the counter and let him cut a small swatch of his hair. It was too long anyway. Mr. Wayne put the hair in a container and nodded down at him with a warm smile.

“Who do you think his father is?” Tim asked from behind them.

Damian startled and drew a sharp breath. “He’s just running the test,” Damian said to Tim.

Tim cocked his head and stared intently at Bruce Wayne. “He can’t run the test unless he has someone else’s DNA to compare it to, Damian,” Tim said. “Who’s are you going to try?”

Tim’s voice was pointed and sharp, even accusing. Damian shifted his gaze back to Mr. Wayne, who was looking at the container of hair.

He was quiet for a long, stretched out moment and the air was heavy and thick on Damian’s skin. “I’m going to try me.” He was still staring at the box.

Damian’s knife clattered to the floor. Tim bent down to pick it up, and he tucked it into Damian’s sock himself. Damian tried to breathe.

Tim slipped his hand into Damian’s and squeezed.

“You think you’re my father?” Damian whispered. His legs were unsteady and his breath was still hard to draw.

Bruce Wayne knelt in front of him again. Damian examined his face, looking for familiarity, things that might give him clues. He leaned close and pressed his fingers to Bruce’s cheekbones. Maybe. He traced Bruce’s chin. Maybe. He ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair and felt the familiar coarseness of his own. Maybe. He met Bruce’s gaze. “Our eyes are different,” he said.

Bruce nodded. “Like I said, you have your mother’s eyes. Our faces are similar. Alfred said he thinks you look like me. Sometimes others can tell better than we can. But yes, there’s a good chance you’re my son. I was with your mother eight years ago. The timing works out.” He started to say something else, but he stopped himself and leaned back, brushing Damian’s hair and resting his hand on Damian’s cheek. “I don’t know. We need the test. It doesn’t take long to do, though, so if you’ll follow me to a room, I’ll show you and Tim where to clean up, and then by the time you have some soup, we may have an answer. Okay?”

Damian managed to nod. This man. This man thought he was Damian’s father. Here, in this regal house, with Damian in rags and salivating at the thought of soup, he may have found his father. He followed him to a bedroom that had a large bathroom attached, and there were two t-shirts and two pairs of large jogging shorts laid out on the counter.

“You can both shower,” Bruce said, his eyes still stuck on Damian. “Then come back to the kitchen, okay?”

Damian nodded, and Tim said, “Is Jason all right?”

Damian kicked himself for not asking after his brother. He was so focused on staring at Bruce Wayne’s face, though.

“Yes, Alfred thinks it’s just the flu. We’ve put him on an IV for fluids and we’ll keep a close eye on him tonight to make sure. Dick is having a shower in their room right now. He’ll join us for food afterward.”

Tim nodded and Bruce Wayne left the room, shutting the door behind him. Damian stared after him and felt cemented to the ground.

“Try not to get your hopes up, Dami,” Tim whispered. “I don’t want you to be upset if it’s not him.” Tim paused. “It would be wild if it was him, though.”

Damian turned to Tim and shrugged. “He is not a fighter. He is a rich man. It may not be him.”

Tim smiled. “I have a feeling he’s a fighter _and_ a rich man, Dames.”

“You think he’s really Batman?” Damian asked. That would be acceptable. A vigilante fighter who helped protect Gotham by night and a rich man by day? That would definitely be acceptable.

Tim shrugged. “it’s a hunch.”

When they were clean and warm and all sipping vegetable soup in the kitchen an hour later, Damian met Bruce Wayne’s gaze as he returned to the kitchen from running the test, and the smile in the man’s eyes told Damian everything he needed to know. He had found his way home.

<><><><><>

Dick tried not to gulp the soup in front of him, but it was hard. He felt like he hadn’t eaten real food in a lifetime, and he wanted to fill his stomach until it burst. The soup was also the most delicious soup he’d ever eaten, so that didn’t help his urge to eat and eat and eat. The sourdough bread made from scratch that he was dipping in the soup was also the most melt-in-your mouth delicious that he could ever remember bread being. Maybe he was just hungry.

When Bruce Wayne stepped into the room and caught Damian’s eyes in the warmest smile Dick had seen since his own father hugged him before the show that fateful night, Dick knew Damian had found his father. He was so happy for both of them. He stopped eating to ruffle Damian’s hair. “Well, he may not be a fighter, Damian, but he sure looks like your dad. I’m glad you found him, munchkin.”

Damian swallowed a bite of bread and said, “Tim thinks he’s Batman.”

Dick cut his gaze to Mr. Wayne, who was blinking kind of like an owl at Tim.

Dick laughed. Leave it to Damian to just lob a grenade like that.

Tim swore and said, “No, uh. No, I don’t. Shut up, Dami.”

Damian jutted his chin. “I think we should ask. My mother said that my father was a fighter. You already thought that Bruce Wayne was Batman. Why shouldn’t I say it out loud? If I am a descendant of the al Ghuls and a vigilante, that makes me even stronger.”

Dick sighed and blew out a breath. “Mr. Wayne, don’t pay any attention to him. He’s got this whole, ‘I must be descended from greatness’ thing going on.”

The weird thing was that Bruce Wayne, instead of saying the logical ‘of course I’m not Batman,’ turned to Tim and said, “What makes you think I’m Batman?”

Tim set his jaw and glared at Damian, but turned back to Mr. Wayne and said, “Well, before I ran away, I took a lot of photos of you – I mean Batman. You have the same build. You walk in a similar way. I’ve seen pictures from papparazi where you’re kind of beat up but you claimed to be in some sort of accident even though the night before it showed up in the papers Batman was fighting Scarecrow or Penguin or one of Falcone’s gangs. The timing just worked, you know?” he took a breath and Dick thought he might stop, but he barreled on. “Plus we know that someone with a lot of money funds Batman and you have a lot of money, and my dad said that Wayne Enterprises had the best R&D team, even better than ours, and that he wished he could poach Lucius Fox from you but my mom said that Lucius Fox was an idealist and goody two-shoes with a genius brain and he’d never leave Wayne Enterprises and I thought that meant he could design things for the Batman if you were the Batman.” He finished and sucked in a deep breath, like he’d run out of air.

Dick blinked.

Bruce Wayne blinked. “That’s . . . . . quite a hypothesis, Tim.”

Dick swallowed some more soup and said, “You’re not denying it, though, are you?”

Mr. Wayne turned to Dick and smiled. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but finally he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You boys are sworn to more secrecy than you can even imagine.”

Tim gaped and then whooped. “I knew it!” he yelled.

Damian had a smug look on his face that Dick figured probably wouldn’t come off for at least a month.

Tim’s yell, though. “Tim, be quiet. Jason’s sleeping.”

“It’s all right,” Mr. Wayne said. “These rooms are pretty soundproof.”

Thinking about Jason put the damper on Dick’s appetite and not even the news that Batman was standing in a kitchen in front of him could help.

“Are you okay, Dick?” Tim asked.

Dick set down his spoon and stood up. He carried his dishes over to the sink and set them down. “You two think you can get yourselves to sleep? I wanna sit with Jason in case he wakes up.” Tim had grown up in a house like this and Damian just found his father. They’d be less wary than Jason would. “I don’t want him to wake up alone in a strange house.”

Tim nodded. “Dami and I will stay together tonight.”

Damian didn’t protest, so Dick took that as acceptance. “Okay. Good. I’m gonna go back to Jason’s room. I’ll see you guys when you wake up, okay?”

Damian hesitated for a moment, then stood up and rushed into Dick’s arms for a hug. “Good night, Dick,” he said into Dick’s borrowed t-shirt.

Dick held him close for a moment. Everything had changed. Dick had taken care of Tim and Damian as best he could and now, they were both safe. They’d deal with Tim’s family situation in the morning, and they’d find out what was going to happen to Jason and him as well. “Good night, Dami.” They all needed rest.

He trudged back to the room Alfred was sitting in with Jason and sat down on the edge of the bed. Alfred stood and said, “I’ll be back in a little while to check on you both.”

“Thank you,” Dick replied, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Jason. He looked so tiny laying there in the big, king-sized bed. He was still dirty, his hair was greasy, and his skin was smudged with oil. They’d chosen to get him to bed and hooked up to the IV instead of trying to get him cleaned up. Alfred said he’d feel better when he woke up and could clean up then. Jason had been too out of it to offer an opinion.

Dick stared, and tears filled his eyes. They were warm and Jason was sleeping in a bed. Dick had a nutritious meal that he didn’t have to pay for and a shower for the first time in two years. Jason was sick, but they’d get him better. Maybe now he would stay healthy if he could live somewhere warm and safe.

But Dick was afraid.

He didn’t want to lose Tim, but Damian really was Bruce Wayne’s kid, so he’d be staying here. Dick was going to lose Damian for sure. He’d only had him a few months, but he loved him. He loved his frowny face. He loved his loyalty. He loved the way he burrowed against Dick at night or sat up talking to him when they couldn’t sleep. He loved the way Damian kept watch all the time, trying to take care of Dick. All of those things would be gone within the week most likely.

Dick swallowed and the tears fell.

“Dick?” Mr. Wayne asked from the doorway. “Are you all right?”

Dick wiped his eyes before he turned to answer. “Yes, sir.”

“You can call me Bruce,” Mr. Wayne said, and Dick felt tears burn again at the warmth in Mr. Wayne – Bruce’s voice.

Dick couldn’t speak; he just nodded.

“Can I come in?” Bruce asked.

Dick closed his eyes. All those nights he’d slept so lightly because anyone could stumble upon the boys and hurt them. All those days he avoided all grown men because maybe they were traffickers or gang members. All those nights they’d slept so cold that getting deeply asleep was impossible and they could hear the noise of the city all the time. Now, in this quiet mansion where Dick swore he could hear a pin drop, a grown man stood in the doorway and asked permission to come into his own room. Dick nodded to Bruce in affirmation.

He opened his eyes and when Bruce sat down next to him on the bed, purposely far enough away to not be threatening, the tears fell again. He gripped his waist and tried to stop them.

“It’s okay, Dick,” Bruce said. “You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

“Okay,” Dick choked out. “Okay.”

Bruce waited a moment, then held out his hand before resting it on Dick’s back. He didn’t move close, just rested his hand there and then started rubbing small circles. “It’s okay, chum. You’ll be all right. You’re exhausted and run down and your brother is sick. It’s okay to be upset.”

“He gets sick a lot,” Dick whispered through his tears.

“Just him?” Bruce asked.

He nodded. “Tim and Dami haven’t been sick once. I got sick a couple times, but nothing serious.” He took deep breaths and the tears finally slowed. “Jason, though, he had bronchitis last month. He gets colds and stomach bugs all the time.”

Bruce frowned. “How long has he been homeless? Do you know?”

Dick swallowed. “He’s twelve. He’s been on his own since he was seven. Five years.”

Bruce blinked and shook his head. “To survive five years on the Gotham streets.” He paused. “I imagine he’s malnourished. He’s small for twelve, and his immune system probably isn’t very strong. No seven-year-old can know how to nourish themselves properly, much less actually find that kind of food on the street. It’s a marvel he’s made it this long, really.” 

“He’s really tough,” Dick whispered.

Bruce turned to him. “So are you. You’ve been looking out for him for three years, and you looked after Tim and Damian, too. I can tell in the way they look at you. You’re their big brother,” he said with a smile.

The tears threatened again. He nodded. “I tried.”

“Dick, I have something to tell you,” Bruce said, and he started rubbing circles on Dick’s back again. “I was there the night your parents died. At the circus.”

“What?” was all Dick could manage.

Bruce sighed and closed his eyes. “I saw it happen. I knew it was foul play the second it happened, the way the rope split. I looked for any links between Haly’s and Gotham. I even looked for you,” he said, and opened his eyes. They were filled with sadness. “When I was eight, I watched my parents die in front of me. When I saw your parents fall, and I saw you standing up on that platform watching, all I could think was, ‘he shouldn’t have had to watch his parents die.’ I had thought the thoughts going through your head. I had felt what you were feeling. I looked for you after, but no one could find you. I was there as Bruce Wayne, and by the time I got back as Batman, you were gone. I looked, but I couldn’t find you.”

Dick swallowed thickly. “You looked for me?”

Bruce nodded. “I wanted to find you and help you. I couldn’t. We didn’t turn up any leads, and the whole thing went cold. I’m sorry.”

Dick held his breath as he said, “Zucco.”

Bruce snapped his eyes to Dick. “What?”

“The gangster. Zucco did it. I came to Gotham because I heard him threaten Haly that night and I didn’t do anything about it, so my parents died. I came looking for him and found Jason instead.”

They sat quietly on the bed for a few minutes while Jason snored softly nearby. Finally, Bruce shifted a little. “I have two things to tell you, Dick.”

Dick tried to shove the exhaustion in his bones away and answered. “Okay.”

“First of all, I want you and Jason and Tim to stay with me for as long as you need. I don’t know Tim’s full situation yet, but I think I can swing it so that you and Jason can stay with me. I’d like you to.”

Dick turned to him to make sure he wasn’t joking. “Really? As long as we need to? What does that mean?” He never wanted to be separated from Jason. Staying here for a few months would mean nothing if they still ended up separated.

“It means that if I can get all of the right approvals, I’d like to foster both of you. Indefinitely. If Tim’s situation is as bad as it sounds, I’d like to foster him, too.”

That was more than Dick could hope for, so he set it all aside for a moment and pulled in a deep breath. “Okay. What was the other thing?”

“I’ll find Zucco. As Batman, I’ll find him and make him pay. I’ll get him thrown in Blackgate for the rest of his life if I can.”

Time stopped. Dick’s breath halted and the air in the room stopped moving. Here was Batman promising to find Zucco. He was sitting here promising to help Dick exact revenge for his parents. His parents whose voices he still heard in his dreams or if he was tired, his parents whose arms he could still feel wrapped around him when he was sad. Bruce was saying that Batman would put the man responsible for their deaths behind bars, all the while providing Dick a safe place to live.

“Okay,” Dick breathed. “Okay. We’ll stay with you and – and it would be amazing if you could find Zucco.”

Bruce’s smile lit the room and Dick couldn’t help smiling, too. Bruce ruffled Dick’s hair and Dick instinctually leaned into him and let him wrap his arm around his shoulders and pull him close.

“Thank you, Bruce,” he whispered.

“I’ve got you, Dick. I’ll take care of you now.”

Dick believed him.

<><><><><>

Jason woke slowly, which was unusual for him. Someone was breathing deeply next to him, and there was weight next to him, too. His body was a cement block, though, and his stomach was angry and letting him know. He took deep breaths of his own to try and calm it down. The smell that hit him was so different than the warehouse – a light scent that he couldn’t identify - that he snapped his eyes open. He was in a place he’d never been before, a bed in a room with high ceilings and soft light and dark brown wood everywhere. His breath hitched. He tried to sit up.

Dick was there in an instant – he was the person next to him – saying, “It’s okay, Jay. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Jason nodded and sat up, and Dick, now wearing a soft-looking blue t-shirt, rubbed his back. Jason’s stomach twisted again. “Dick,” he cried, and someone else pushed a pink plastic basin under his chin and he threw up, heaving water and then only bile into the basin, and his stomach twisted into a tight knot. He clenched his eyes against tears and his stomach tried to get rid of more, but there was nothing left. He just wretched into the basin while Dick rubbed his back. When he finished, the man who had been holding the basin handed him a warm, wet cloth and he wiped his mouth.

Dick held out a glass of water with a straw. “Don’t drink much, okay? Just rinse.”

He followed instructions and Dick took the glass back and set it on a wooden stand next to the bed.

“Jason, this is Bruce Wayne. He’s taking care of us, okay?”

Even sitting down, Bruce Wayne was a big man. His shoulders were broad, and his hands were big, and he just loomed somehow. Jason scooted closer to Dick.

When the guy stood to take the basin away, he was even bigger – tall and broad – and he moved smoothly, like he was a tiger or something. “I’ll be right back, boys. It’s nice to meet you, Jason,” he said before disappearing into another room. His voice was big, too.

Jason swallowed and leaned into Dick. “I don’t feel so good, Dickles,” he groaned.

Dick kept rubbing circles on his back. “Yeah, I know. Alfred said your flu was pretty severe. Said you’d likely be feeling like garbage even after being warm and having an IV.”

Jason held up his hand. “I’ve never seen one for real. It’s weird.” He paused. “This Bruce Wayne guy, Dick.”

Dick answered, “I think he’s okay, Jason. I think he’s a good person. Also, he’s Damian’s dad, so there’s that.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “What? Dami actually found his dad and he’s a rich bastard who lives in a cushy mansion?” he couldn’t help his laughter.

Dick chuckled, too. “Yeah, well, there’s more. He said we could tell you, but no one else, but Bruce Wayne is Batman. So Dami’s dad is a fighter, really. He just happens to also be a rich guy who lives in a cushy mansion.”

Jason’s words left him. Damian found his father. His father is Bruce Wayne, schmillionaire. His father is also Batman, a vigilante who dresses up and fights criminals.

“Pretty wild, huh?” Dick said, and Jason could only nod.

Bruce Wayne came back into the room, drying his hands off on a towel. He sat down next to the bed in a big chair with green cushions and dark wood. “Jason, I presume Dick told you about me?”

Jason nodded. Seriously. His words didn’t seem to want to work at all. If this was Dami’s dad and Batman, then Dami had a home that didn’t include them. A huge, nice-smelling, cushy home. After a moment, though, his words came back on fire. “You can’t split me and Dick and Tim up. You better not fucking try and send us different places,” he spit out. “We’ll fucking run again. I’ve been on my own for five goddamned years. I don’t need anyone’s help.” His breath sped up and his fists clenched in the soft sheets.

“I’m not splitting you up,” Wayne said, ignoring Jason’s anger. “I promise. You’ll stay together, and I’d like you to stay here for a while, actually.”

Dick added, “He said we could stay, Jason. He means it.”

Jason’s stomach swirled again, but not from sickness. It was something else. He turned back to Wayne, who nodded and smiled. It sent something weird and warm down Jason’s chest. He was suddenly exhausted again, and he slumped against Dick, who pressed him back to the soft mattress. “We can stay? He means it?” he said to Dick. He needed to hear it again.

Dick smiled his smile that had been reassuring Jason for two years. “Yeah, Jay. I think he does.”

“Okay,” he said, and he closed his eyes. “Staying with the rich guy Batman sounds like a good plan,” he mumbled.

Dick’s laughter was joined by a deep rumbling laugh as Jason dozed off again.

<><><>

“You should go back to sleep, Dick,” Bruce said as gently as he could. These boys were sharp edges and glares if he wasn’t careful.

Dick rubbed sleep out of his eyes and said, “Can I check on Tim and Damian, Bruce? Just one more time?”

The smile came unbidden to Bruce’s face and that hadn’t happened in a long time. It kept happening tonight. “Sure,” he said. “One more time. Then sleep.”

He led Dick down the hall to the room Alfred had chosen for Tim and Damian, a large guest room with a king-sized four-poster bed with rich, red mahogany wood and pale, yellow accents. The two little boys were in the middle of the bed, tangled in each other’s limbs. Damian’s head butted against Tim’s chest and Tim’s arm was thrown over Damian’s back. They were deeply asleep.

Dick’s face was warm, and his blue eyes danced in the soft light of the doorway. “They’re comfortable here,” he whispered.

Bruce nodded and pulled the boy by his elbow, back down the hall and to the bed he’d insisted on sharing with Jason. He helped Dick climb under the covers and smiled down at him. “Rest, Dick. We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

“Are you staying here?” Dick mumbled as his eyes closed.

“Yes. I’ll stay and check on the other boys periodically, too. You’re safe.”

Dick nodded and then his face went slack and his mouth opened slightly. Deep even breaths came out and Bruce ran a hand through his clean hair before he moved around the bed, back to the chair to watch Jason sleep. His sleep was fitful and restless thanks to his fever, but he stayed asleep.

Bruce had gone to the Batcave after leaving the boys in front of the manor earlier that night and he’d run a check on all of them. There was no record of Damian al Ghul anywhere, but the other boys had a few hits. Dick was, indeed, Dick Grayson of the Flying Graysons, missing for two years. Bruce shook his head at the idea of him randomly running into a boy who knew the streets like Jason, who was able to help him stay off the radar for so long. Jason Todd had a birth certificate, a couple of elementary school records, and one placement record for foster care. There was no report of him ever leaving that placement and the dirtbags were still collecting money for the boy to this day. Bruce would take care of that.

Tim Drake had the most records of any of them - birth certificate, doctor’s records until a year and a half ago, and school records. His parents had withdrawn him from school last year, and there was record of a detective hired to find him, but nothing after that. His parents own records indicated that they traveled all the time, and had, indeed, left Tim alone for months long stretches his whole life. They were traveling right now in South America. Employment records indicated a housekeeper, but she was only part-time, which told Bruce that she didn’t even stay at the house when the Drakes were gone. His own anger burned at this information. 

Now he sat in a chair next to the bed where two very strong boys slept, and his own son was down the hall. He stood and went back to the room where Damian and Tim were still asleep. He approached his son’s bed and brushed his hand through the dark hair that mirrored his own. A son. His rage at Talia burned hot in his chest, something he was going to have to deal with eventually. For now, though, watching this small boy who spoke with an accent and very formally, who had clearly been trained by Talia from a young age, his eyes burned with tears.

He would take care of these boys, all of them. He would raise his son to be a Wayne, not an al Ghul, and he would make sure the other boys were safe and got the opportunities they needed. He would go through all of his lawyers until he found one who could make that happen.

Alfred stepped up next to him and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, steady and warm. “Things have changed, my boy,” he whispered, and his voice was filled with a kind of awe.

Bruce took a deep breath and agreed. “Yes, and for the better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me at westgateoh on Tumblr! All titles are Paul Simon lyrics because he seems to write for people searching for places and meanings.


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